She nudges me with her elbow. "Careful, Bennett. Keep smiling at me like that and I might start to believe you actually like having me around."
I meet her gaze head-on. "That’s the real danger, sweetheart. You just might be right.
We slip out the side door of the bar, drawn by the need to escape the heat inside just for a moment, and maybe something else we don’t want to name.
The summer air outside is thick and warm, carrying the smell of mesquite and horses from somewhere beyond the lot. Overhead, stars scatter across the black sky like someone spilled salt on velvet.
The gravel crunches under our boots as we wander a little, drinks in hand, silent at first. Not the awkward kind, but the kind that builds tension with every second.
Avery glances over at me, her profile lit soft by the glow of the porch light behind us. "Didn’t think I’d ever see you dance again."
"Didn’t think I’d have a reason to."
Her eyes flick to mine. "Was it me, or the Shiner Bock?"
"You," I say without hesitation.
She stops walking. "You’re being nice," she says, almost suspiciously.
"Don’t get used to it."
She laughs. A quiet, breathy sound that sinks into me. Her gaze drops to the space between us, barely a breath apart now. And I can feel it. That slow burn coiling tighter. That gravity we keep pretending doesn’t exist.
Her voice is softer when she speaks again. "So what now? We keep pretending there’s nothing here?"
I take a step closer.
She tilts her face up to mine, her breath catching as her eyes meet mine. The air between us hums with heat, her breath smells faintly of honey and hops, and the space feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.
I reach up, almost without thinking, and brush a strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin is warm. Smooth. Too damn close.
Everything stills.
Her lips part slightly. Her breath mixes with mine. One step closer and I’d be kissing her. One second longer and I might do it anyway.
But I don’t.
Instead, I let the moment hover.
I want it. God, I want it. But I can’t.
Not yet.
Because if I start, I might not stop.
Her hand is still on my chest when I finally step back. Slowly. Like peeling off something I don’t want to lose.
She blinks, confused, maybe even a little hurt. "Cash—"
"You make it really hard to remember why I was supposed to hate you," I say, voice low.
Then I turn and walk away before I do something we’ll both regret.
Because if I kiss her now, it won’t be enough.
And I’m not sure I know how to want her halfway.
Chapter five
