“Well,” she says, bumping my arm lightly with hers, “for you, that practically means you’re partying.”
“Careful,” I warn. “If I get too wild, I might… stand closer to the firepit.”
“Oh no,” she gasps dramatically. “Insanity.”
I bite back a smile.
Then she looks at me and everything changes. Her eyes soften. Her breath catches just barely. And her gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again.
My pulse jumps.
Someone calls for Olivia across the yard. Ivy starts chasing Pickle, who has somehow stolen a rib bone the size of his head. Sadie runs after both of them.
And suddenly it’s just me and Delaney standing in the soft barn light while the party churns around us.
And I can’t look away.
The music shifts. It gets slower, warmer, and the couples start drifting toward the open space Silas calls “the dance floor,” even though it’s just grass with good lighting.
Delaney glances at them.
Then back at me.
I feel the question in the air before she says it.
“Do you…” Her voice falters. She tries again. “Do you want to dance?”
Dance.
Me.
I haven’t willingly danced since I was a teenager and forced into a school gym under the threat of a failing grade. But with her? Her fingers already brushing the fabric of her dress, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in a shy little question…
I’d walk into fire.
I nod.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I do.”
Her smile could warm the whole valley.
She reaches for my hand.
And my world narrows to the moment her fingers touch mine. Small and soft and warm. A live current sparking under my skin.
She leads me to the open space. Couples sway around us. Olivia tucked under Jesse’s chin, Sloane humming against Roman’s chest, even Boone reluctantly dancing because Sadie dragged him by the hand.
Delaney steps close.
Close enough that I smell her. Vanilla and honey and smoke, comforting and intoxicating all at once.
Close enough that when I put my hand on her waist, her breath flutters.
Close enough that every part of me aches with how badly I want her.
The music hums low. Crickets chirp.
She sways with me gently, her hand resting on my chest, testing whether my heart is really beating as hard as she thinks.
