“Patricia," Keith intervenes. "Let them breathe."
"I'm just curious! Bunny's never had a serious boyfriend before.”
“That's not—" I start.
"Remember college? You dated that boy who turned out to be gay? And the one who was married? Oh, and that phase where you only dated men from your romance novels wishlist? What was it? 'Must be protective and dominant'?"
I want to die. Want the floor to open up and swallow me. John's hand tightens on my waist.
"Good thing she found me then," he says calmly. "I'm very protective. And dominant."
Patricia chokes on her champagne.
I might be having a stroke.
"Dance with me," John orders. Not asks. Orders.
He leads me to the floor, pulls me against him. We're barely swaying but I feel like I'm spinning. His hand on my waist reminds me how easily he lifted me, how small he makes me feel despite my size.
"Ignore her. She's right though. I'm bad at relationships. I pick wrong, or they get bored, or—"
"Bunny." His command voice. I shut up immediately. "You're perfect. Anyone who couldn't see that is a fucking idiot. You don't have to—"
"I'm not pretending right now."
We stare at each other. The air feels electric.
"I know this is supposed to be fake, but right now? You're mine. And I take care of what's mine."
A whimper escapes. An actual whimper.
"You like that? Being mine?”
“Yes," I breathe.
"Good girl."
I'm going to combust. Right here on the dance floor. Death by praise from a grumpy mountain man.
Patricia appears again. "You two look cozy!”
“We're leaving," John announces.
"But it's only nine!”
“Bunny's tired." He's not asking. He's telling. "Say goodbye to your brother."
I hug Keith, who whispers, "He seems intense but good. You happy?"
"So happy," I whisper back, and realize I'm not pretending.
John takes us to the lodge's hotel wing. "I have a room.”
“What? Why?"
"Always have an exit strategy. Also figured you might need escape from Patricia.”
“You got a room just in case I needed to escape?"
