Page 116 of Freefall

Nate takes my hand, lacing our fingers as he leads me through the crowd. Once we’re further inside, I spot a few familiar faces. Skylar is wearing a bright red hooded cloak over a black corset dress and knee-high lace-up boots. As soon as she spots us, she practically bounces over.

“You guys made it!” she gushes, her words only slightly slurred. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

She barely reaches us before a tall man covered in tattoos steps up behind her. He’s wearing all black with a gold wolf-shaped masquerade mask covering the top half of his face.

“Nate,” he drawls, amusement lacing his tone. “So nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Then he turns to me. “And who is this lovely creature?”

Skylar smacks his chest with the back of her hand. “Behave, Dec.”

“Who says I’m not?” He hooks the silver ring in his lip between his teeth, then lets it snap back into place with a pop. “I’m always a perfect gentleman.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Skylar rolls her eyes. “He’s acting out because I told him we couldn’t hire a micro-tattoo artist, but I had to draw the line somewhere. He already hired a fortune teller and an ice sculptor. There’s an entire haunted graveyard made of ice in our backyard.”

The man doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “Can you blame me?” he says. “It’s not my fault I know how to throw a party.”

“Anyway,” Skylar says with another dramatic sigh. “This is my husband, Declan. Dec, this is Harper.”

“Ah.” He grins. “The one who got away.”

Skylar’s face turns the color of her cloak. “Allie said Emory knew, so it wasn’t really a secret anymore. Don’t worry. I only gave him the broad strokes.”

Declan leans down and whispers something in his wife’s ear, and she somehow blushes even harder. “Anyway, make yourselves at home!”

I open my mouth to thank her, but she's already being pulled away by her husband.

Nate looks over at me as soon as they’re gone. “Want a drink?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” I smile. I think Halloween counts as a special occasion.

“Any preferences?”

I shake my head.

A few minutes later, he returns carrying a bottle of sparkling water and a stemless wine glass filled with an amber-colored drink. An apple slice floats on top alongside a cinnamon stick.

He hands me the glass first. “According to Skylar, this is her signature apple cider sangria, whatever that is.” He offers me the bottle of water. “I grabbed this too, just in case.”

“Thanks.” I take a cautious sip and damn, it’s delicious. I notice his empty hands. “You didn’t get anything?”

He shakes his head. “I’m driving, remember?”

“You could have one,” I point out.

“I could.” His thumb slides across the back of my hand as he takes it again. “But I’d rather make sure you get home safe.”

Heat blooms in my chest and it has nothing to do with the alcohol, although that doesn’t hurt either. I take another sip. Then another. Before I know it, my glass is empty. I’m about to tell Nate I’m going to grab another when a familiar voice calls my name.

I turn to find Emory making her way through the crowd. Her short brown waves have been teased with extra volume, and she’s traded her scrubs for skin-tight black pants tucked into red heels. A black top hangs off her shoulder, hugging her curves. Next to her, Luke is wearing a black leather jacket over a fitted white T-shirt. His dark hair is slicked back, and the sleeves of his jacket are pushed up just enough to see the swirls of black ink covering his forearms.

“Grease?” I ask.

Emory nods excitedly before shamelessly dragging her eyes over her fiancé. “I think I might have been born in the wrong decade.”

“Same,” I admit.

A second later, Nate gives my ass a feather-light warning tap. “Careful,” he mouths, and I bite back a smile.

“I’m so glad you guys are here!” Emory says. “Have you tried the apple cider sangria?”