“’ Course,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want to keep a lady from her host.”
Grant took her hand.
The second she stepped into him, Izzy looked up and said quietly,
“Thank you.”
Something in his face eased.
He didn’t answer.
Just led her onto the dance floor as the next song shifted slower.
Much slower.
The kind of song people either danced close to or avoided entirely.
Grant’s hand settled at her waist.
Careful at first.
Then a little closer.
Izzy let herself move with him, one hand resting lightly against his shoulder. The warmth of him settled around her almost immediately—cedar, clean soap, night air.
Solid.
“You alright?” he asked quietly.
“Mm-hm.”
“You sure?”
She looked up at him.
“Your local billionaire is a little creepy.”
That earned the smallest hint of a smile.
“Yeah,” Grant said. “He is.”
The barn seemed softer suddenly.
Music.
Lights.
The slow turn of bodies around them.
Grant’s thumb brushed once against the bare skin at her back.
A tiny movement.
Barely there.
Izzy felt it everywhere. Neither of them moved.
The rest of the barn faded around them.
