He keeps his eyes on the skyline. “I don’t like when metal falls out of the damn sky, Sadie.”
The breath leaves my lungs. Because that’s as close to admitting the truth as he can manage. “I’m really glad you were there,” I whisper.
He finally looks at me. Really looks. There’s something raw in his eyes, something vulnerable he doesn’t usually let surface. “Yeah,” he nods, voice low. “Me too.” He pauses a moment, then continues. “About the other night-”
I put a hand up to stop him. “Don’t. Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”
His brow furrows, lips pressing into a flat line before he speaks again. “That’s not what I want.”
“But you left?” I can’t help the disbelief in my tone.
“I wish I hadn’t.” He looks up at the sky, a long exhale blowing from him before he brings his gaze back to mine. “I thought I was doing the right thing. But if I’m being honest, I’m just not really sure how to do whatever this is we might be doing.”
Before I can respond, fireworks explode in rapid bursts, white, gold, and silver, lighting his face in a way that makes him look young and haunted and impossibly beautiful.
And then, because the universe enjoys chaos, he clears his throat and says, “You ever been to Graceland?”
I blink. “What?”
“Graceland.” He shrugs like this is normal conversation. “Elvis’s mansion.”
“Oh. Um. No.” My brow furrows as I try to figure out where this is headed.
“You should go.”
“Well, yeah.” I nod, noncommittingly. “Maybe? Sometime.”
“With me,” he clarifies, his gaze shifting back to the river. “Tomorrow. I rented a bike.”
Renting a motorcycle. Dean Ross inviting someone on the back. This is not nothing. “You want me to go with you?” I stammer, not sure I heard him correctly.
He doesn’t look at me when he answers. “You’re the only one who’ll sit still long enough to take decent photos of it.”
I bite back a smile. “Right. Work. Of course.”
He finally glances over, a spark of something wicked in his eyes. “And maybe,” he adds, voice dropping just enough to hit me in the knees, “because I want you there.”
Fireworks crack overhead. I forget how to breathe. Before I can reply, Hayden and Mikey come barreling out with drinks and snacks, loud and chaotic, breaking the spell like boys always do.
Dean pushes off the railing, brushing past me just close enough that his arm grazes mine, a whisper of heat along my skin. “Ten a.m.,” he murmurs. “In the lobby.”
Then he’s gone. And I am standing in the glow of fireworks over the Mississippi, heart pounding like a drumline. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, I let myself whisper into the night, “Oh God, I’m in so much trouble.”
Chapter Twenty
Dean
Can’t Help Falling In Love
Elvis Presley
The bike is a bad idea. And, that’s exactly how I know it’s the right one. I picked it up at eight a.m., signed papers with a guy who recognized me and tried not to freak out, then parked it in the Sapphire Resort’s side lot like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. Now it’s ten-ish, Memphis already sweating through my shirt, and I’m leaning against the seat pretending my pulse hasn’t been clocking out since last night.
Sadie walks out of the hotel like she stepped off a magazine cover I didn’t ask for but can’t stop staring at. She’s wearing a sundress and wow. But of course, she’s still wearing boots, always with the damn boots. Hair loose because apparently, she woke up and decided I should suffer. Camera bag cross-body, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, that look on her face like she’s not sure if she’s excited for this or bracing for impact. Probably both.
“Hey.” She smiles when she gets close.
It’s just one word but my heart does that stupid thing it’s been doing since Lincoln. “Hey.” I nod at the bike. “You good with this?”
