Avoiding eye contact with literally everyone I pass, I navigate through the small crowd until I’m on the perimeter, with a clear path to the wide-open barn door in my sights.
Until the person I’ve spent the entire day actively avoiding steps out from a shadowy area along the wall.
“You taking off?” he says, intercepting me.
Nobody’s paying attention to us. I could ignore him or be a complete bitch and nobody would ever know. Part of me wantsto let him have it. To unload the full scope of heartbreak I’ve carried since he left. But what would be the point after all these years?
“I’m not looking for another rehashing of the past,” he says when enough seconds of silence tick by to make it obvious I have no intention of responding.
“Then whatareyou looking for?”
Heat flickers in his dark eyes, and immediately, traitorously, my body reacts, activating nerve endings that have been dormant for six years. Even if I could school my face like a professional poker player, it wouldn’t matter. The flare of his nostrils and twitch of his upper lip between the two protruding tusks hasn’t changed. It’s his tell. Whether intentionally or instinctively, he scented me. And having done so, he knows I’m still susceptible to that damn smolder.
Being susceptible doesn’t mean I’ll succumb. Those days are over. So is my patience.
I step sideways then forward, skirting around him.
“I was hoping for a dance.”
The statement stops me in my tracks and I whip about, coming face-to-face with him again. “I can’t believe you.”
“Why? I’ve never lied to you. Why would I start now, about a dance?”
Fists on my hips, I stare up at his serious, handsome face. “I didn’t mean it literally. I can’t believe you have the balls to hope for a dance.”
“You know about my balls better than anyone.”
I huff while rolling my eyes. “Me and all your groupies.”
His dark eyebrows rise and his mouth curves into a smug smile. “Never thought I’d find jealousy attractive, but I like it on you.”
“Take off your egotistical rock-star glasses, Grüsh. They’re distorting your perception of reality.”
“So, you’renotjealous of all the groupies who’ve seen my balls?” he says, stepping close enough that I have to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough for me to catch a hint of his masculine, leathery scent that’s as alluring now as it was when he was mine.
The lie I want to tell refuses to leave my lips. Of course I’m jealous of the women who came after me. I carried on after he left, but I never moved on.
“Good night, Grüsh. Goodbye.” Again, I turn to walk away.
This time, he stops me by capturing my wrist and gently pulling me back into his space. The touch ignites a riot of physical memories that send sparks ricocheting through me. “Just one dance, Cate.”
“Why?” I want to spit the question at him, but it comes out soft and vulnerable, the opposite of how I want him to see me.
“Because I know I’ll regret it if I leave without trying to fix what’s broken between us. Because you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and having you in my arms again is all I’ve been able to think about since last night.”
“Damn you.”
“That sounds like a yes,” he says, sliding his fingers from my wrist to my hand.
“Keep your ego in check, or it’ll become a no.”
His husky chuckle unlocks emotions I’ve kept contained for so long.
“No ego, Catherine. Not with you. Never with you.”
I snort derisively as he leads me onto the dance floor. “That was before you became a world-famous rock star with a rabid fandom and groupies throwing underwear at you.”
“Guess I don’t need to ask again if you’re jealous.” Smiling, he clasps one of my hands while pulling me against him with his other, then slides his big palm to my lower back as he guides our rhythmic swaying to a heartfelt country ballad.
