“You look absolutely radiant tonight,” I say, undeterred.
Her eyes narrow further.
I lift my hands. “Just saying, you might as well stop fighting it. You’re gonna love me eventually.”
“Fat chance,” she says flatly.
The music breaks, and the sweaty dancers spill back toward the tables in an unsteady wave.
Shelby spots me immediately.
Her eyes flash with annoyance.
Fair enough.
I canceled Ruby’s lesson today, giving her another day to adjust to day care. It’s only been a few days since Shelby and I last saw each other, but the look she gives me says it’s been plenty of time for her to stew and build her walls back up.
And damn if she doesn’t look good.
I’ve always thought she was attractive. Even back when we were growing up. But this? This is different. The woman makes coveralls and work boots look sexy on a daily basis. Put her in something that hugs her curves and shows off those legs?
Yeah …
Shelby Storm is definitely not the girl I knew.
She’s all woman now.
“What did the cat drag in?” Charli asks, collapsing into Bryce’s lap.
“Looks like an old field rat to me,” Harleigh adds dryly.
I glance at Harleigh and grin. “Et tu, Brute?”
She flips me off without missing a beat.
I shake my head, amused. “Wow. Looks like all the Storm women have a problem with me.”
Shelby crosses her arms, chin lifted, eyes still sharp on mine.
It should bother me.
Instead, I find myself getting turned on.
Of course Waylon is here.
Because why wouldn’t he be? He’s been everywhere lately. I honestly thought I’d get a nice little break from his face when he canceled Ruby’s session today.
Apparently, that was all the universe was willing to give me.
I was even letting myself enjoy this evening, getting to know Dixon. Though it’s kinda hard to do in this environment.
Especially with my loud, nosy family around.
I slide back into my seat at the table and force my attention onto Dixon, who’s mid-sentence, talking about a mare he trimmed earlier this week. He’s earnest, thoughtful, genuinely interested in what I do and what I think. He leans in just enough to hear me over the music, his hand resting lightly on the edgeof the table—not touching me, but close enough to feel attentive and intentional.
I nod. Smile. Try to focus.
But I can sense it.
