Page 16 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“I know.”

She pulls it closer anyway. “Thank you.”

The Timberline is dim and familiar. Gus looks up when we walk in, gives me a nod, then assesses my companion in a single sweep. “Evening.”

“Hey, Gus. This is June.”

“Welcome, June,” he says. “What’re you drinking?”

“Hi, Gus. Nice to meet you. Whiskey, please,” she answers, glancing up at me. “If that’s okay.”

I smile. “Perfectly. Same, please, Gus.”

We take a booth toward the back. Gus drops the drinks and leaves us alone.

June studies me over the rim of her glass. “You make places feel smaller.”

“That bother you?”

“Not sure yet.”

I like that answer.

We talk. About nothing urgent. About things that tell me more than she probably intends. Where she’s been, what she avoids, what she laughs at instead of answering. She leans in when she relaxes. I stay still, letting her come to me.

Her knee brushes mine.

Once.

Then again.

This time it stays.

I don’t move. Don’t comment. Just let it be there. Let her feel that I’ve noticed and chosen not to stop it.

Heat coils low. Vanilla and something woody clinging to her sweater. The way her eyes keep dropping to my mouth before she reins it in.

She’s not as subtle as she thinks.

When Gus calls last round, I’m annoyed by it.

“I should go,” she says, even now not moving her knee.

“I’ll walk you,” I agree, already standing.

Fog curls low outside, softening the streetlights. She walks close, our arms brushing with every step. A quiet test.

The Switchback Inn comes into view too quickly.

She stops and turns to face me, my jacket still around her shoulders. “I’m glad I came out tonight.”

“So am I.”

The air between us tightens.

I lift a hand, thumb brushing the sleeve at her wrist. Not touching skin yet. Letting her feel the restraint.

Her breath catches.