“But…”
“Does it matter?” he challenged. “After all, it turns out there wasn’t a wedding to go to anyway.”
“No…but…” My confusion deepened. “Everyone was going,” I said. “The whole town and?—”
“Not me.”
“You just weren’t going to show up?” I lifted the flask again, but put it down before drinking. “Why?”
He hesitated this time before answering. Long enough for something low in my belly to tighten.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be there,” he said finally.
“Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I already knew the answer. He didn’t like Trevor. He’d told me so. Still, I needed to hear it.
Preston looked at the floor, then back at me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him. “I couldn’t watch you marry him, Jess.”
My breath caught.
“I couldn’t sit there and pretend to be happy about it. I don’t care what the reason was for you doing it…I couldn’t face the idea of shaking his hand and congratulating him when what I really wanted to do was punch him. I couldn’t stand the thought of you settling for so much less than you deserve.” He shook his head. “And I sure as hell wasn’t going to bear witness to it.”
I swallowed hard.
“I figured I’d take Summit out, and do some maintenance work on the back trails and spend the night here, maybe have a drink or two,” he went on. “And try not to think about it.”
“You were going to drink because of me?”
“I told you,” he chuckled, “I wasn’t celebrating.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Preston’s eyes darkened as he held my gaze. He reached out, and for a moment, I thought he was reaching for me, before he took the flask from my grip. “I didn’t want to feel it tonight,” he said finally and took a swig from the flask.
“Feel what?” My voice was breathy and rough.
He looked at me, his eyes steady and unguarded. “You.”
The world tilted.
I wasn’t surprised. Not really. But at the same time, it was the last thing I’d expected to hear.
“You told me you didn’t believe in love,” I said, my voice barely louder than the rain outside.
“No.” He dropped a finger to my thigh.
Just one, but fire burned through me where he touched me.
“I told you I didn’t think love was practical for most people,” he corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
I swallowed.
“But I’ve never been much of a practical person, Jess.”
A soft, silky laugh slipped from my lips. I turned a little so I faced him. He didn’t move his finger away. Instead, the rest of his fingers joined and cupped the curve of my thigh.
A shock shot through me.
Suddenly, I was very aware of how close we were sitting, his touch on my leg, the heat from his body, the space that was left between us, and how easily it could disappear.
