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After the kid walks away with his tail between his legs, I step behind the bar and lean close to Dee. “You know the front door doesn’t let anyone by if their ID is questionable,” I remind her.

“I know, but crushing his confidence was the easiest way to get him to leave me alone.” Her laugh turns to a gasp as I pull her in for my kiss. She’s shocked for half a heartbeat, then melts into me, hands clutching the front of my shirt as if she’ll fall without the anchor. The entire club blurs. I’m aware of people staring, whispers spreading like wildfire, but none of it registers.

Dee’s hands stay on me, fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt. “The cat is definitely out of the bag now,” she murmurs, voice gone soft and secretive.

“That it is,” I say, and kiss her again. This time, it’s slower, more careful, but every bit as possessive.

Someone clears their throat behind us. I turn, ready to lay into whoever’s about to kill my mood, but it’s Nathan. He stands with his arms folded, eyebrow arched, smirk just barely contained.

“Stop making out with my new bar manager and let her work,” he says, voice carrying just enough to be heard by every regular in a ten-foot radius.

Dee and I both gasp, the words tumbling out of us in perfect harmony. “What?”

Nathan hardly blinks. His broad shoulders rise and fall like it’s nothing to drop a bombshell across a crowded bar. “The offer was overdue,” he says. “If you want the gig, I’ll match Velvet’s offer.”

A wild stutter of, “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit,” spills from Dee. She grips me for support.

Nathan grins, mischief flickering in his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s a yes.” And before any of us can recover, he’s already moving, crossing the floor to pull his wife tight against his chest.

For the first time in my life, I have nothing to say. Dee tucks her face into my chest, hiding her laugh, and I realize I’ve never seen her this happy. From now on, I’m going to make sure she’s this happy every day for the rest of our lives.