Because the Wren at the festival had been vibrant, bright, curious. So had the woman he’d come to know in the library. That Wren had smiled easily and laughed at his corny jokes. Her eyes sparkled.
This Wren was a shadow of that person. Small, quiet, withdrawn. It looked like she was trying to become one with the chair.
His chest tightened.
If this was what Lark meant, he didn’t like it. Something inside him twisted painfully. No one should look that sad and lost.
Especially not his girl.
He started walking toward her, not stopping until he stood directly next to her table.
She looked up and surprise flashed across her face, immediately replaced by wariness.
Dammit. He’d done that. Given her reason to want to avoid him.
“Hello, Wren.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended.
She swallowed. “Hello, Grayson.”
Even his name sounded different now. Quieter, more careful, as if she was bracing herself.
“Dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand.
Her eyes widened. “I…” She glanced at her sister, who’d been uncharacteristically silent.
Lark studied his face for a long moment, then shrugged. “I’m going to go make Rob dance with me. He’s as un-fun as you are tonight.”
Neither he nor Wren spoke as Lark rose and headed toward their younger brother, who was sitting with a bunch of guys about his age, all of them adopting that typical “bored teenager” look. Obviously, a dance at the community center with a bunch of older people wasn’t cool with the high school crowd.
Once Lark was gone, he held his hand out again.
Wren stared at it for a few seconds, like she couldn’t quite believe it was there.
“Wren,” he said, and her gaze lifted to his.
For one brief moment, he saw it. The same vulnerability and hope he’d glimpsed at the festival. Only this time, it was lumped together with sadness and fear.
He wasn’t certain how so many emotions could be tangled together like that, but it sure as hell strengthened his resolve in regards to Ms. Wren McCoy.
She was his, and whatever burden she was carrying was no longer riding on her shoulders alone. He was sharing the load, because he wasn’t walking away from her again.
“I don’t dance,” she said softly, reiterating the words she’d said that night at Whiskey Abbey. It occurred to Grayson if she’d accepted his invitation that night, he would have discovered who she really was to him earlier.
One touch…
“You do tonight.”
She blinked at that, as if puzzling out whether she’d heard him correctly.
But then…she reached out, slowly, cautiously, and placed her hand in his. He gently tugged her from the chair but made no move to continue to the dance floor.
Instead, he leaned closer, his lips next to her ear when he whispered, “You’re mine now, little bird.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wren had no idea what Grayson meant by “You’re mine now.” The words should have sent her running for the hills, given his deep, growly, possessive tone.
A week ago, he’d walked away from her, and as she stood in that library watching him leave, she convinced herself that she’d ruined everything, that she would never see him again except from a safe distance whenever their paths crossed in town.
