Page 34 of Worth the Shot

This is me.

And he’s going to see all of it.

Halfway through the song, something in me I don’t fully recognize takes over. I break away from Jo and Emma for a second. They exchange a look, and Jo lets out a squeal while Emma gives me an approving nod like they already know what I’m about to do before I do it.

My eyes lock on Brennan’s as I walk toward him, heart lodged somewhere in my throat, hands shaking. The same ones that remain steady under pressure during every single shift tremble as I reach for his. He sets his beer down without hesitation and takes it, letting me lead him to the middle of the bar where Jo and Emma are waiting.

As if we’ve done this a hundred times, he takes my other hand in his and dances with us to Taylor Swift. He takes turns spinning each of us around, moving like he doesn’t care who’s watching.

Wes jumps in and grabs Jo’s hand, and even though she protests and rolls her eyes, she lets him. Shayne pulls Emma in next, doing some cursed rendition of the Electric Slide while she laughs and counters with the Macarena. Miles joins us, and I grab him too, laughing as we dance together until Brennan cuts back in.

This time, though, it feels different.

A new song blares through the speakers as he takes my hand, his gaze intense enough to make my heart pound. Goosebumps rise everywhere. He spins me once, then stops with my back to him.

He pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me from behind as we move to whatever song is playing. I couldn’t tell you what it is, because I don’t hear it.

I don’t hear anything.

I don’t see anything.

Just him. Just me.

Just us.

And that should scare me more than it does.

Because somewhere between the teasing, the stolen glances, and him showing up in all the small ways that matter, Brennan Hale has become dangerous to the walls I’ve spent months building.

Not because he might hurt me.

But because I’m starting to think he might not.

Chapter Fourteen

Brennan

I have never been more captivated than I am in this moment.

I watch Delaney—who almost never lets herself slip out of line—lose herself to her favorite song with her sister and best friend like no one else in the room exists. And when she pulled me in, it felt like another piece of those walls giving way.

My pulse hammers in my chest as I take her in. Her hair spills over her shoulders and down her back, bouncing every time she moves, strands brushing across my chest while she sings at the top of her lungs. Something tells me this won’t be enough. I want to remember every second of it.

The smile on her face is pure, unguarded joy. Like for once she isn’t second-guessing herself or reaching for some sharp little joke to cut the moment in half before it gets too real. She’s just Delaney, and she doesn’t care who’s watching.

God, I love seeing her like this.

The song ends, and somehow, like I’m the luckiest guy in the room, she’s still in my arms. Her cheeks are flushed, her smile loose and unguarded in a way I don’t think I’ve seen before. A few strands of hair cling to the sweat at her forehead, and I have to curl my fingers into my palms to keep from brushing them back.

She’s still a little breathless when I reluctantly let her go. Her chest rises and falls, eyes bright from dancing and the Old Fashioned she’d been drinking.

I swear I’ve never seen her look more alive.

There’s something about this version of her. Another side she doesn’t hand out easily, another piece of her I get to witness that makes me feel lucky to be here for it.

We walk back over to the table, and I don’t say anything right away. I just watch her steal the beer from my hand and take a sip, cheeks flushed, eyes shining as she looks straight at me like she knows every thought in my head.

I bite down on my bottom lip, chest still working harder than it should. I can skate twenty minutes a night, train year-round, outlast just about anybody on the ice, and somehow four minutes dancing with her stole the breath right out of my lungs.