“You’re already my favorite one of Scarlett’s boyfriends.” She grinned and pulled me into a hug. “Call me tomorrow, Scarlett.”
I pulled back. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Ready?” Stetson asked, offering up his hand.
I laid my hand on top of his and he pulled me to the dance floor, my grin answering his question. “Strawberry Wine” by Deana Carter trickled through the speakers. Wilson always loved to end the night on a slow song, specifically old country, and tonight was no different.
Stetson shuffled closer to me, our bodies mirroring one another.
My arms reached up to find a resting spot, landing in the space between his shoulders and jawline, I used the leverage to shift my body even closer. The anticipation of waiting for his hands to find my body was similar to lighting a firework and waiting for it to spark.
I surveyed the rest of the dance floor over his shoulder until finally, the warmth from his palms radiated through my jeans. The instant pulse of electricity brought my attention back to him. For a second the room stood still.
“You’re making it really hard to do my job, you know that?” I admitted.
“Really? Because you’re making my job a whole helluva lot easier.”
“Oh yeah. Which job is that?” I joked. “The one where you pretend to be my boyfriend so I don’t look like a loser in front of the man who left me at the altar? Or the one where you attempt to write a new kind of album, one that feels a little scary but will most definitely pay off in the end?”
We swayed our bodies to the music, moving in slow motion, his hands lying on my hips.
“Both, actually.” He smirked. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for all that. I mean technically we’ve only been dating for a few hours.” His bright white teeth poked out from behind his lips before his mouth grew tight. “However, we do need to get a few things straight: you are not and never will be a loser. In fact, you’re the furthest thing from it. And I don’t know what Zane is, but he is nothing close to a man—or at least not a man who is worthy of a woman like you.”
His compliment colored my cheeks pink, coercing my chin to drop, but Stetson’s fingers almost immediately lifted it back up.
“I’m serious. I don’t know how you don’t see it, and I don’t know how someone else hasn’t seen it either, but I’m damn lucky they haven’t because maybe that means I still have a chance.”
“You’re really playin’ into this whole boyfriend thing, aren’t you?” I wanted to ask him more, but finding the right words seemed impossible.
“Who says I’m pretending right now?” he asked, abruptly stopping his feet in order to focus on the room around us. Theemptyroom. “There’s no one watching, I have no reason to pretend anymore.”
I didn’t know if it was the fact that we were alone—except for Wilson who was somewhere around here—or something else, but a jolt of confidence bolted through me. I pulled his head closer, tracing my tongue across my bottom lip before marrying our mouths together.
The hunger in both of us was obvious in the way we couldn’t get enough of one another. Our tongues were in a feeding frenzy as they danced around, swirling together, desperate to explore every inch.
Someone cleared their throat, startling us both.
“Shit. Sorry, Wilson.” I giggled, swiping any remaining kisses from my mouth.
“Don’t you be sorry, darlin’. I would say stay all night, but I’ve got a beer and a nice recliner callin’ my name.”
“My bad, sir. I have a hard time walkin’ away from a pretty lady.”
“Ain’t that the truth. I’ve been there a time or two.” He laughed as he scratched his beard, the slightest bit of nostalgia washing over his face.
“Let me grab my purse and we’ll get outta your hair,” I said, briskly strolling to the barstools and grabbing my bag from the back.
“You kids have fun tonight and be safe,” he shouted after us as Stetson wrangled me through the door.
“Bye, Wilson,” I yelled, the words just barely making it out of my mouth before my piercing shriek replaced it.
Stetson had scooped me up, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of feed. His strong hands rested on the back of my upper thigh.
There were a few stragglers hanging around in the parking lot, smoking their midnight cigarettes, but I didn’t care; I let my laughter fill the nighttime air.
For a moment, everything was familiar, almost as if this weren’t the first bar Stetson and I had closed down together. A little déjà vu invited a country-wide smile onto my face.
