“Wyn,” he calls out, louder than the music.
I stop and take a breath. Standing at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, just as another chord starts, I can feelJulian step up right behind me. The smell of oak and mint lingers in the air with him so close. His hand grips my shoulder, steadying me. I see his brown leather cuff out of the corner of my eye for the briefest moment, and I find myself exhaling.Hold it together.Moving from my shoulder, down my arm slowly, his hand reaches my wrist, and then he’s intertwining our fingers until our palms meet. He holds my hand without saying anything more. This simple touch, the warmth of his palm against mine, feels like my undoing. It softens me, almost too easily.
I’ll ask the question I need to ask, but with just this simple gesture, I already know the answer.
He steps closer, brushing against my back, and I instantly feel safe. The music lingers around us, along with people standing and watching others dance a few feet away.
Lowering his head next to mine, his mouth hovers next to my ear as he says, “Want to tell me what’s going on now?”
This is the part of him that I didn’t expect—the calm and patient. On his exterior, he comes across as intense and confident, arrogant even, with the way you have to earn it to get him talking with you. But when he starts talking, the charming parts of him bleed out, and having his full attention feels like an achievement. But this, right here, with my hand held and a simple question asked, it’s like he knows I need this before anything else.
I take a step forward to turn and face him, which forces our hands apart. “I’d like to dance,” I say, lifting my chin.
He doesn’t answer, just holds my eye contact, knowing there’s more.
So I clear my throat. “On one condition,” I say, trying to steal my reserve.
At that, he smiles, looking down as he takes a step closer to me. “Okay, but only because I’d like to dance.”
I try to suppress my smile, so I glance to my left, making sure this interaction doesn’t have an audience. A few glances, but not enough to keep me from saying what I need to say. “You tell me what the hell you talked about with the sheriff fortwohours after I left with my sister last night.”
“That’s her,” I hear someone loudly whisper, stealing my attention. “The one who apparently died?”
“Are you surprised? I mean, look at that family...”The insult drifts off, and what would have made me self-conscious in the past now has me ready to fight.
My posture changes, my back straightening and the muscles in my shoulders tensing.
Julian watches me, because I know he heard it too.
I shake my head, trying to laugh at how damn stereotypical this is right now. “If you ever forget where you are, the people around here will quickly remind you how this town earned its name,” I say, feeling angry and defeated by the callousness of their words.
“I didn’t hear anything worth remembering,” he says, refusing to look away from me. “And I know exactly where I am, and where I want to be.”
Another woman in the same small group asks, “But, who is that...withher?”
I know they’re talking about Julian.
Someone in the small huddle snorts a laugh. “A tad out of that league, if you ask me.”
But just as I turn to tell them where they can shove it, Julian wraps his hand around my hip and pulls me closer to him. His other hand wraps along the back of my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw. The move shakes me and has me forgetting all about them. Everything tunes out—the snarky comments, the low hum of the crowd, the instruments gearing up for another song.
“I’m going to say this once, Crowne. It’s your call whether you choose to believe me. There’s nothing for you to be worried about when it comes to me talking with the sheriff or any other person who has the power to do damage to you, to me, or to your family.”
I glance down to the collar of his shirt. I have no reason not to believe him. He could have shared everything he knew, taken a deal, and left town, but he’s still here, dancing with me.
“Tell me you understand,” he says, holding me close. His grip on my hip pulses tighter as his thumb grazes back and forth from my cheek to my chin.
On a breathy exhale, I nod once. “I understand.” I melt into the way he’s touching me.
“Good, now, I’m going to shut those women up over there and kiss you like I’ve been thinking about since the last time you let me.”
I don’t get to tell him please before his lips take mine like he’s been starving for them. It’s the kind of kiss that tells anyone who’s watching that this manknowswhat he’s doing. Within a few seconds, his tongue finds entry as he tilts my head just where he wants me. It’s intense and deep, and just as quickly as it happened, he pulls back. Breath stolen. With his forehead touching mine and lips hovering inches from where they just made their fucking point, I can’t help the way my face feels flushed and my body sways as if we’re dancing. I smile at the small horde of assholes who were just talking too loudly to not be shut up.
“You just gave people plenty of fuel for the next week with a kiss like that.” I lick my lower lip as I stare at his, wanting to feel that all over again.
He kisses my temple. “You’re looking at me like you’re ready to leave with me. But I need to dance with you first,” he says as he moves around me, grabbing my hand again and weaving usthrough the dance floor crowd. The bright bulbed lights that are strung above the floor keep the entire area well lit despite the sky being dark and already peppered with stars.
I run my fingers down his forearm and over his leather cuff as his fingers hook with mine and we find a spot on the crowded floor.
