His mouth curves faintly. “She’ll get one.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
The slow burn between us shifts again. Hotter.
He offers his arm.
“For the record,” he says quietly as we walk back toward the ballroom, “if they try that stunt again next year…”
“Yes?”
“I’m starting at ten.”
My heart does something reckless. The crowd notices us re-enter together. Whispers ignite immediately. The church ladies beam like they just orchestrated world peace. And as Levi’s hand settles possessively at the small of my back for the rest of the night, I realize something terrifying. The fake dating isn’t spiraling out of control.
It already has.
And the way he looked at me when that gavel fell?
That wasn’t charity.
That wasn’t performance.
That was a man who refuses to lose the same woman twice.
Chapter 10
Sadie
The town doesn’t follow us past the treeline.
The second Levi turns his truck off the main road and onto the narrow gravel path that winds toward his cabin, the noise fades. No more ballroom music. No more church ladies clutching pearls. No more whispers about five thousand dollars and hallway kisses.
Just pine trees, dark sky, and the steady hum of his engine.
He doesn’t speak during the drive and neither do I. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s loaded.
His jaw is tight in the glow of the dashboard lights, one hand steady on the wheel, the other flexing occasionally like he’s still replaying the night.
I watch him instead of the road.
“You’re quiet,” I say finally.
“Yeah.”
“Is that dangerous?” I ask.
“Depends.”
He turns onto the final stretch, cabin lights coming into view between the trees. His cabin is modest. Wood siding. A wideporch. Warm light spilling from the windows. The life he built without me is practical but inviting.
He parks next to my car in the driveway and kills the engine, sitting there for a second before stepping out. I follow.
The mountain air is cooler up here. Cleaner. The stars are sharper, like someone punched holes in the sky.
He unlocks the door and gestures me inside.
