He gets me hot cider before I can protest, then guides me through a blur of introductions. Smiling faces. Firm handshakes. Flannel. At least three women calling me sweetheart like they’ve known me all my life. By the time the third one pats my hand and gives Weston a look full of suspicious satisfaction, I’m starting to think I’ve just met whatever passes for a matchmaking committee in Lovestone Ridge.
It should feel overwhelming.
Instead, with Weston’s hand at the small of my back, it feels strangely easy.
Safe.
We stop near the edge of the dance floor while the band finishes a fast song, and I peek up at him over the rim of my cup.
“So how famous are you here, exactly?”
He frowns. “I’m not.”
I snort softly. “Weston, half this room has looked at you, looked at me, and immediately started mentally planning our wedding.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Maybe they’re efficient.”
I inhale wrong and nearly choke on my cider.
He takes the cup from my hand before I spill it, sets it on the nearest table, and offers me his hand.
“Dance with me.”
I stare at his palm for half a second before slipping my fingers into his.
His hand closes around mine, warm and rough and careful, and then he leads me onto the floor.
I am not prepared for what happens when he pulls me in.
One hand settles at my waist. The other keeps hold of mine. My body fits against his far too well, like some traitorous part of me has been waiting all day to find this exact place. He moves with confidence, guiding without crowding, and I follow because there is nothing else to do when Weston touches me like this except surrender and hope I do not melt into a literal puddle on the floor.
“You can dance,” I murmur.
His thumb shifts lightly against my hand. “So can you.”
“I wasn’t sure rugged mountain men believed in rhythm.”
His mouth brushes the edge of a smile. “You got a lot of ideas about rugged mountain men?”
“An embarrassing number, actually.”
That earns me a real smile.
Quick. Rare. Completely devastating.
I miss a step.
His hand tightens on my waist, steadying me. “Easy.”
I laugh softly. “You areverydistracting.”
His eyes darken.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You too.”
