To my surprise, Trouble hasn’t rescued me yet. Instead, Knox slows when he sees me, grin easy—until his eyes land on the man next to me. His smile fades just enough as he asks, “You good, Sawyer?” Like he’s ready to knock this man out if the answer’s anything but yes.
"Doing just great, Knox. Meet Gannan."
“Graham actually,” he corrects with a hesitant wave.
He gives Graham a once-over before settling on me. "Yeah, whatever your name is," he adds. "I'll be right outside, playing bags." He jabs a finger toward his eyes then swivels it toward Graham. "I got eyes everywhere."
"Appreciate the concern," I say, irritated that Knox is not currently helping with this plan of mine.
Graham laughs. “I have a little sister, too. I get it.”
"Can we just dance," I ask, pulling him toward me by the front of his shirt.
We fall into step, just two strangers pretending we’ve done this before and that it’s not awkward at all. The music’s fast, the energy charged, but everything else blurs around me. His hands are at my waist, the spin of the barn lights are overhead, and my pulse is pounding behind my ribs.
Graham’s easy to dance with. He knows what he’s doing, and yeah—he’s cute in that sweet, nice-guy way. But this isn’t about him.
I let myself get lost in the moment anyway—the sway of my hips, the brush of his denim against my dress, the sparks that come with being seen. The dance floor is packed,the air is thick with dust and summer heat. And I know exactly what I’m doing.
Because I canfeelTrouble watching me.
Even through the crowd, I know the exact second our eyes meet. His stare pins me in place, dark and on the edge of tearing the walls down. His jaw ticks. His grip around his glass tightens. And my heart kicks just a little harder—because that look?
That look says I’ve got his full attention. And maybe I should feel guilty. But all I feel is powerful in this moment.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already losing this game.
My fingers drift down Graham’s arm like it’s accidental—but it’s not. It’s calculated. Every brush, every move, is a message. And if Trouble’s watching—andGod, I know he is—then he’s reading it loud and clear.
He’s posted up across the barn like a storm that’s two seconds from breaking, eyes still burning through me like I just did something unforgivable.
I know it seems evil, but he’s been sneaking around, helping on Daddy’s property like he’s just doing it for Knox. But I’m not an idiot. He may act all rough and unreadable, but I can see through it—and I’ve hit a breaking point. I need to know the truth. I can’t be making this up in my head.
Graham’s hand finds mine and I let him lead. We spin once, twice—the barn lights flicker above—and then I’m pulled in close. It’s intimate. Bold. Way more heat than this innocent dance deserves but I let it happen.
Because I wanthimto see it.
I arch into the space between us just enough to make it look real, just enough to let Trouble imagine more than he should. I’m dancing, sure—but a part of me knows I’m trying to set the whole damn place on fire.
And when our eyes lock again across the dance floor, hisexpression shifts—just a flicker—but Ifeelit. That edge. He’s unraveling. He has to be.
Graham's fingers brush slowly against the brim of his hat, a casual motion that doesn't betray the significance of what he's about to do. The gleam in his eye tells me he knows this move meanssomething. My pulse spikes, every nerve on high alert.
Then, with a smooth flick, he pulls it off—dark, messy hair falling in place as leans in. Real close.
“This’d look better on you,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
It all happens in slow motion. The weight of the hat. The heat of his breath.
And then—just like that—it’s on my head.
I don’t even get a full second to breathe it in before the air shifts behind me.
Trouble steps in like a damn security guard. Massive, brooding, the force of him crowding the space.
He’s towering over us, fiery eyes locked on me—no, on the hat—like it’s a loaded weapon that’s about to go off.
His jaw ticks once, slowly. His hands flex like he’s fighting the urge to introduce Graham’s face to the nearest wall. And when they lock eyes, I start mentally drafting my will.
