And he’d started it.
Maybe she’d gone a little too far, and her face flamed with embarrassment and the memory of his lips against hers. Insistent. Caring. Soft, then inquisitive again, a rise and fall she hadn’t experienced before.
Truthfully, Lark hadn’t experienced much when it came to men, and that too sent a tremor of unease through her.
She blinked as Tex Young said something into the mic, and when she found her focus again, she discovered more than one uncle looking directly at Cash.
That wasn’t good, and Lark cowered another inch or two behind him. Thankfully, he had the broad shoulders required to shield her from unpleasant things, and right now, the gazes of his aunts and uncles stung.
“So let’s welcome Harry, Bryce, OJ, and Belle to the stage.”
The crowd clapped again, and this time, Lark joined them. The eyes turned toward the people moving up onto stage, and she relaxed a little bit now that the spotlight didn’t shine directly on her.
“We should leave early,” Cash whispered, barely ducking his head to speak to her.
Lark frowned as he faced the stage again, and she couldn’t see his face. “Why would we do that?”
“Because,” he said. “I kissed you, and they all saw it.”
“I’m pretty sure I kissed you too.”
“And I’m not sorry about any of it,” Cash said.
Neither was Lark, and a certain warmth filled her chest to hear him say such a thing, and a tiny smile decorated the edges of her mouth, pulling her lips up slightly when she realized he wasn’t upset about her hungry, almost desperate craving to have his mouth united with hers.
“I’ll follow your lead,” she whispered back, her fingers around his lower bicep tightening. “Okay, King?”
He dipped his head then, and Lark could practically hear the questions in his head.King? What does that mean?
She also knew by the way he didn’t outright demand to know right now that he didn’t entirely hate the nickname. Silliness ran through Lark, but she wanted to have something fun and intimate to call Cash, and he sure seemed to enjoy using Songbird for her.
She had her reasons for King, and it had actually felt semi-natural to say it. If they left early, perhaps she and Cash could talk about it on the way home to Dog Valley.
Or in the hot tub tonight, Lark thought, sliding her free hand into her pocket to take a peek at her phone. Only eight-forty-five. Yes, she still had time, as the night was barely beginning.
“Hit it, boys!” Otis Young yelled from up on stage, and the expanded group of them launched into a rousing, countrified rendition ofJingle Bells.
Lark loved the atmosphere here, especially when Trace started them all clapping on the beat. And when OJ—the youngest person on stage—stepped up to the mic and yelled, “Everybody now!” the whole family joined in on the chorus.
Lark included.
The scentof bacon frying and coffee brewing woke Lark the following morning. No, she and Cash had not left early, and she’d been so tired, she’d fallen asleep on the long drive from the eastern edge of Coral Canyon back to her family home in Dog Valley.
For some reason, she’d skipped hot tubbing with Cash, though she’d spent a half-dozen texts assuring him she was just tired.
And she had been—and still was.
She’d laid awake for a long time last night, going over and over andoverkissing Cash on a makeshift dance floor with everyone in his family watching. They’d left with the first wave of Youngs departing the Pie Bar after the concert, but she’d still endured plenty of unwanted attention.
No one said anything to Cash, but his father’s dark-as-pitch eyes had followed the two of them out to the truck. He’d hugged Cash and said, “Text me when you get back. The roads are dark tonight.”
Cash had promised he would, and Lark had no doubt he’d kept that promise. Just like he’d told her he’d be making a scrumptious Thanksgiving Day breakfast, as their main turkey feast wouldn’t be until four-thirty that evening.
“That leaves time for pie before bed,” Cash had explained, and she saw so many of his family traditions shining through in the things he did. Heck, he’d even asked if she, Wade, and Jet would like to go with him up to Whiskey Mountain Lodge tomorrow, hike out into the forest, and cut down the Christmas tree.
As Lark lay in bed, the delicious smells of breakfast still wafting around her, she smiled. She’d informed him that she wasn’t an outdoor person.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Wade had said with a loud guffaw, which had earned him a glare from Lark.
