Arlo rolls his eyes. “You’re something.”
Silas ignores him completely, turning his attention back to me. “So, Delaney, who just got into town… what brings you to our humble little corner of the world?”
“A new, much-needed start.”
I don’t feel like giving him more than that right now.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Mysterious.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
He leans closer, eyes gleaming. “Not at all. I’ve always had a weakness for it.”
I open my mouth to say something—goodness knows what—but Silas’s grin widens, wicked and bright, and the rest of the world recedes.
He launches into a story about the time the town’s cornhole league turned into a full-scale border dispute withthe neighboring county, complete with a stolen trophy and a midnight rescue mission.
“Picture it,” he says, hands moving as much as his mouth. “Me, halfway up the side of Beau Hartwell’s dad’s barn, trying to break in and liberate a beanbag trophy while Deputy Morgan screams about ‘jurisdiction’ from the driveway.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, the sound bursting out of me so suddenly it startles us both.
He talks. And dear lord, does he talk. Stories, jokes, wildly exaggerated anecdotes about the town and the folk who live here. He fills every silence like he’s allergic to them, and instead of being overwhelmed, I find myself leaning in, soaking up the warmth of him like sunlight on my skin.
He asks questions too. Good ones. About food, about travel, about where I came from. He listens, even when he teases. And each time I answer, my chest untwists just a little more.
I should stop drinking. I should definitely stop smiling foolishly.
But Silas’s laughter is loud and contagious, wrapping around me like a hug.
Hours pass. Arlo shuts down parts of the bar. The crowd thins. The night deepens.
At some point, Silas shifts closer, his knee brushing mine. The contact jolts through me as a spark.
“You want another?” he asks softly, dipping darker.
I meet his eyes. Wow, they’re green. Not soft green. Dangerous green. Take-me-home green.
“I shouldn’t.”
“No,” he agrees, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “You really shouldn’t.”
We both know what’s happening.
We both know neither of us is stopping it.
He stands and offers me his hand. “Come on, sunshine.”
Every rational part of me screamsbad idea.
The rest of me is starving for exactly this. Heat, distraction, a night where I’m not the woman everyone whispers about. A night where I’m just Delaney. Desired. Wanted.
I slip my hand into his.
His smile is slow and satisfied.
He leads me out the back door of The Hollow and into the cool darkness of the alleyway. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, he presses me gently against the wall, his hands bracketing my hips, his breath warm against my ear.
I pull him in and kiss him like I’ve been drowning for months.
