I should walk away. I should drag Violet back to our booth, laugh this off, and go home.
But instead, my feet move.
The crowd parts a little as I step onto the dance floor. The music shifts. Something slower but still pulsing, the kind of song that’s easy to sway to. The kind of song that feels like a heartbeat.
And then he’s there.
Clint’s taller than I realized, his shoulders broad enough to block the bar lights. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out and takes my hand. His palm is warm and callused, his grip sure but not demanding.
“I hear this is your last night in town,” he says finally, low enough that I have to lean closer to hear him over the music. “You’re leaving?”
Heat races to my cheeks. I didn’t know he’d even noticed me. But I have to play it cool, despite my stomach flipping.
“Word travels fast in this town, huh?”
He gives a faint smile, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Small town. People notice things.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. Just once, just enough to send a spark through me. “I noticedyou.”
I don’t even realize we’re moving until we’re in the middle of the dance floor, bodies around us swaying to the beat. His hand slides to my waist, firm but careful, as if he’s checking to see if I’ll let him.
And I do. Help me, I do.
“You don’t usually dance,” I say, trying to sound breezy.
“Don’t usually have a reason to.” His voice dips a little lower. “’Til now.”
My heart is hammering, a wild counter-rhythm to the music. I can smell him. Leather, hay, and musk, smoke clinging to his shirt.
I should pull away. I should.
But instead, I tip my head back and meet his gaze, and everything between us snaps like a live wire.
He bends down, just enough for his breath to brush my cheek.
Our mouths meet before I can think about it, the kiss rougher than I expect, all heat and unspoken things. He tastes of beer and summer and something that feels dangerously like goodbye.
And then it’s not just a kiss. His fingers tighten at my waist, pulling me a little closer. My hands find his shoulders, solid under my palms, and I’m melting before I even realize I’ve moved.
The noise of the tavern fades into a hum, and all that’s left is the warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the press of his body.
For now, I’m not thinking about New York. Not thinking about tomorrow.
Just this.
Just him.
The heat between us is unbearable. Clint’s lips move from mine, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
There’s something dangerous in the look he gives me. It’s reckless and matches the fire building inside me.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, husky with need. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me in for another searing kiss. “You want to?”
I don’t need any more encouragement. Without another word, I’m tugging him through the crowd, weaving past the dancing bodies, my hand clutched in his as we move toward the back exit of the Silver Bit Tavern.
My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation spiraling with every step.
We push through the door, and the cool night air hits me, a shock after the heat of the crowded room. The moment we’re outside, Clint presses me against the brick wall, his lips claiming mine again.
