As he walked away, the band had the excellent timing to get started. That pulled focus off of us, thank God.
Tate slumped. “I thought it was bad before. It’s worse now that you’re back.”
“It’s just new. And at least people are being nice about it. Look, just put it out of your mind for a bit and enjoy your beer.” Because I sensed she needed a little space, I dropped my arm.
She relaxed a fraction, and for a little while we lost ourselves in shop talk and shooting the shit. As she went on recounting some of the crazier things that had happened on the job since I’d been gone, I just smiled at her.
Catching me staring, she straightened. “What?”
“Nothing. I just missed you. Missed this. Hanging out. You’re so much a part of my everyday that being away from you for so long was really weird. I mean, we’ve done it before on previous deployments, but somehow this time was worse.”
“I really missed you, too. It’s been hard juggling everything without you.”
I felt shitty about that. We’d built this business from the ground up, together. And I’d left her to fend for herself for a frigging year. “I’m sorry.”
She took my hand. “No, that’s not a criticism. I understood you had to go. That’s the gig with being part of the Reserves.”
It was the first time she’d reached for me in a way that wasn’t performative. I had to believe that meant something.
As I wrestled with how to respond, I caught movement in my periphery. Looked like yet another well wisher was headed in our direction. I didn’t relish being interrupted again, so instead I turned my hand over to wrap around hers.
“You wanna dance?”
Eight
Tate
“You wanna dance?”
I loved dancing. I was frequently one of the regulars out on the floor here when I came out with my girlfriends. But in all these years, I’d rarely danced with Kellan. When I had, it was always silly and fast, often part of a group. But the ballad the band had started wasn’t fast. It was the sort of slow, sexy serenade that demanded you pull your date close enough to feel every muscle as you swayed.
I shouldn’t say yes. This wasn’t actually a date. It would just add fuel to the gossip fires and make us the center of attention again. But his hand was so warm around mine, and I found myself wanting to say yes. Wanting to give into this urge to be closer to him. Wanting the questionable privacy of the dance floor.
I curled my fingers around his, trying to ignore the electric tingle that shot up my arm at the contact. He tugged me off my stool and led me to the empty space in front of the band, his grip gentle but sure. As his arm slid around my waist, my heart stuttered, then picked up double-time. The solid wall of his chest pressed against mine, and heat bloomed beneath my skin, spreading like wildfire from every point where our bodies touched. When had he gotten so… magnetic? The familiar scent of his aftershave wrapped around me, and I struggled to remember why this had seemed like such a bad idea just moments ago.
He nudged me into motion, circling me to the music. I focused on the buttons of his shirt, afraid to meet his eyes, terrified of what he might see. His thumb traced circles on my lower back, each sweep sending shivers up my spine. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if it could anchor me against the tide of sensation threatening to sweep me away.
“You okay?” His breath tickled my ear, and I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the delicious shudder that followed.
“Fine.” The word came out far breathier than I’d meant. I shifted, trying to put an inch of space between us so I could think, but his arm tightened. Instinctively? On purpose? I didn’t know. Was one better than the other?
My pulse thumped in time with the bass beat as we swayed. It was the only part of the music I could focus on in the face of this painful awareness of Kellan. How his chest rose and fell with each breath. The strength and breadth of his shoulders beneath my palm. The brush of his thighs against mine. Every second that passed made me so achingly aware of him as a man instead of my friend.
I caught our reflection in the bar’s mirrored wall—his sandy head bent toward mine, bodies moving in perfect sync. We looked… right together. Like we fit.
Stop it. This is just proximity and pretense. Nothing more.
This confounding attraction would fade once we figured out how to untangle ourselves from the mess of this fake engagement. Then everything would go back to normal—back to being just business partners and friends who shared takeout and laughed over stupid movies. Back to the easy rhythm we’d had for years before this stupid lie changed everything. The thought of it settled like lead in my stomach, and I couldn’t explain why the idea of returning to our comfortable friendship left me feeling so hollow inside.
The song ended, but Kellan held me several beats longer than necessary, waiting until the applause faded to release me. My skin tingled where his hands had been. Not sure what to do with that, I hurried back to our table, needing the distance to clear my head.
Perfect timing—our food arrived just as we sat down. With my stomach tied in knots, the massive fried chicken sandwich I’d ordered suddenly looked like too much. I picked at my fries, watching Kellan demolish his patty melt as if it had insulted his mama. A year of military rations had clearly left him craving real food.
“You gonna eat that?” He pointed at my sandwich with his fork.
“Yes.” I grabbed it before he could, earning a grin that made my chest tight. “I saw how you inhaled a burger and two brats at the cookout yesterday. This is mine.”
“Hey, a man’s gotta make up for lost time.” He swiped one of my fries, anyway. “Damn. Nobody makes fries like Doc’s.”
