Abigail grinned.
She’d had a feeling that when faced with the threat of no more meals at the Lucky Goat, Tanner would cave.
They all had.
She looked around the room at all the nearly empty bowls and nodded in satisfaction. Either she would wake up in the morning to dirty bowls in the sink and an empty jar, or she would wake up to nothing, and the bitter feeling that despite her past, she might be failing the men in the tavern—men she felt responsible for.
She looked over at Roan, who was watching them all eat with grim determination on his face.
She wasn’t the only one feeling responsible—Roan was anxious, too. If only she could ease his burden. She made her way over to him and stood next to him in solidarity. She might not be able to ease his worries, but at least she could be there so he would not be alone.
“This needs to work,” he muttered.
“It will,” she said, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it.
It felt completely normal to hold his hand.
It shouldn’t have.
But it did.
She pulled her hand as if to take it away, but he squeezed tighter, not letting go, and she watched as he swallowed hard. Maybe she imagined it, but she could almost see the tension easing in his shoulders.
He could hold her hand if it eased his burden.
“Thank you for being here,” he said quietly.
“Any time.” She meant it. She would be here anytime for Roan and these men.
She owed more to Roan than he could ever know. She had been given a place of her own where she could stand on her own two feet and be strong, and that was something she had never gotten from her father.
She looked up at Roan, who squeezed her hand again in response, and looked back out at the tavern.
This was her home now.
She would go back to sleeping at the inn when the curse broke, but the LuckyGoat was her home.
She had fought the title for the past year, telling herself it was silly to care so much about what was only a job. But it was no longer just a job. Whether she wanted it or not, the Lucky Goat and Roan meant more to her now, and she could not escape that no matter how she tried.
Lyle pulled his fiddle out of the corner, and all eyes turned to the two of them, mischievous grins on every face.
“Dance, dance,” Tanner began chanting.
“No,” Roan said, but Conrad came around the counter and pushed the two of them out from behind it with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You’re in so much trouble,” Roan muttered to Conrad, who simply laughed as he pushed the two of them into the center of the floor.
“You’ll have to deal with it,” Conrad said.
Abigail stood still, her hand still held loosely in Roan’s, and looked up at him. Was he going to refuse, or would he dance with her again?
His eyes softened as he looked down at her, and he offered his other hand without letting go.
“Shall we dance?” he asked, and the tavern erupted into cheers.
Abigail smiled and took a step closer, allowing him to wrap his arm around her waist.
“I love dancing,” she said.
