“Hush. I’m talking to Frankie.” She took Frankie’s hand in both of hers. “You’re good for him. I can see it. And more importantly, he can see it.” She squeezed once, then released her. “Now, I need to go save your aunt from another one of Leo’s boring friends. And Frankie? You’re welcome at the house anytime. With or without this grumpy bear.”
She swept away before either of us could respond, leaving Frankie staring after her with wide eyes.
“Your mother is—”
“Terrifying? Meddling? Too perceptive for her own good?”
“I was going to say lovely.” Frankie turned to me. “She really likes me.”
“She’s not the only one.” I pulled her closer, my hand sliding from her back to her hip. “Dance with me.”
“Max, about what you said before—”
“Dance with me first. Then we’ll talk.”
She bit her lip, nervous and beautiful, and let me lead her onto the dance floor.
The band was playing something slow and heavy, the kind of song that was made for bodies pressed close together. I wrapped my arms around her waist, my hands sinking into the lush, heavy weight of her hips as I hauled her against me. I wanted everyone to see. I wanted the whole damn room to know exactly who she belonged to.
We didn’t move much. We just swayed, a slow, grinding rhythm. I was already hard, my cock pressing into her belly. Every time we moved, I felt her breath hitch, felt the way she melted into me.
I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. Vanilla and pure Frankie.
“Max,” she whispered. “People are watching.”
“I don’t care about people.” I pulled back just enough to look at her. “I need to tell you something.”
“Now?” Her eyes were wide, nervous.
“Right now.” I kept my voice low, meant only for her. “This whole weekend. This wedding. Coming here with you.”
“I know. You needed someone to—”
“No.” I cut her off. “That’s not why I agreed to bring you, Frankie.”
She blinked up at me, confused. “What?”
“When you kissed me in the hardware store, when you told Tiffany we were together—I could have said no. I could have let you off the hook right there. Told everyone the truth.”
“But your family—”
“I don’t give a damn about my family’s opinion. I haven’t cared what Tiffany thought in years.” My hands tightened on her hips. “I said yes because it gave me an excuse to have you in my bed. To touch you. To hold you. To make you mine.”
Her breath caught. “Max—”
“I’ve wanted you since the first day you I heard that smart mouth. Every Thursday morning for six months, I’ve walked into that hardware store just to see you. I don’t need lag bolts every damn week, Frankie. I need you.”
“You’re saying this isn’t fake?” Her voice was shaky, hopeful.
“There’s nothing fake about the way I feel about you.” I leaned down, my forehead resting against hers. “This weekend wasn’t about Tiffany. It wasn’t about proving anything to my family. It was about finally having you where I’ve wanted you all along. Next to me. In my arms. In my bed.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You manipulative mountain man.”
“Guilty.” I couldn’t help the smile. “Are you mad?”
I saw her working through it—the realization settling in. She pulled back just enough to look at me properly. “You manipulated me,” she said slowly, testing the words. “You let me spiral about being out of my league and not good enough while you knew the whole time you wanted this. Wanted me.”
“Yes.” I didn’t look away. Didn’t make excuses.
