Nash took another swallow, though he didn’t need it.He had the sudden, stupid urge to lock this moment down—keep it right here, before anything else had a chance to touch it.
Summer was already slipping away from them.He knew that much.
Knew she had a life waiting on her the second it was done.
What came after she left—
Hell no.He wasn’t gonna do that shit to himself.Not yet, at least.
The banjo player stumbled through a run while the guitar dug in deeper, and still Cassie pushed, teeth set, dragging them along whether they could hold it or not.The crowd, waiting for the break, packed in tighter—bodies twisting faster, hands catching and letting go.Laughter broke through the noise, voices rising and folding back into the music as the tempo started to give.
A curse broke from the banjo player when he missed another run, the guitar player stumbling back a step right after him.Someone whooped, somebody clapped off-beat, and the whole thing unraveled the way it always did—in laughter and half-finished notes.
Cassie held out a second longer—just her and the fiddle—shoulders tight, forearm straining as she forced that last note through the break—
—and promptly dropped out, bending at the waist, bow hanging loose from her fingers.
The circle erupted—hands clasping shoulders, voices calling out in celebration—until Cassie pushed free, dragging a hand through her hair as she made her way toward him.
“Show-off,” Nash murmured, handing her the bottle.
“You know it.”
She took a long pull before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.“You ready to dance?”
Behind her, the music had already shifted—slower now, stretched out.The guitar softened, each note dragging sweet and low, Darlene’s voice following it down.The dancers changed with it: less spin, more sway, bodies drawing closer.
“Hell no.”
“Nash.”
“Ain’t happenin’, Cas.You know how I feel.”
She held his gaze a beat, then rolled her eyes.“So it’s like prom night all over again.Fine.”
And just like that, she was dancing her way back into the circle.
Nash leaned back against a tree, lifting the bottle again, watching her move—hips rolling slow and easy, sexy as all get out, moving like the music belonged to her.
Looking unguarded in a way he hadn’t seen since…
Hell, maybe ever.
The ride back to Clifton was quiet, the radio playing low under the hum of the engine—Nash behind the wheel, Cassie stretched out across the seat, head in his lap, sneakers kicked off, bare feet tapping in time with the song against the window.
Normally, Nash would have given her an earful about dirtying up the glass on his old man’s truck.Only each time he glanced down, he found her looking back at him—eyes still lit with the fire from the fairgrounds, lips moving along with the song—and suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to care what her feet were doing.
So he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt, giving himself something else to focus on.
By the time they pulled into the clubhouse lot, it was empty and dark, save for the lights over the doors throwing a dull glow across the gravel.Nash killed the engine and got out, already moving for the door.
“You comin’?”he called over his shoulder.
He didn’t wait to see if she followed.Left the driver’s door open, same as the clubhouse, and headed straight for the bar, only bothering with the lights over it.
He was at the jukebox when she finally came in, looking a hell of a lot less relaxed than she had in the truck.
Could’ve been the memories.Hell, could’ve been the rebuilt bar.Nash didn’t know.Only knew she needed to get goddamn past it.
