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"You've mentioned."

He put his phone back in his pocket and settled back a little closer. Close enough that his knee brushed mine. Close enough that I could smell that ridiculous cologne again.

I took a very large drink of water. Around us, the reception carried on. Someone cheered near the bar. Rob’s five-year-old niece in a pink dress spun in circles until she fell over laughing. One of the groomsmen was attempting to convince Rob’s great aunts, Shirley and Phyliss, to dance and judging by the way Aunt Shirley swatted him with her purse, negotiations weren't going well.

The music drifted through the warm night air. Crickets chirped beyond the barn. The stars stretched overhead, impossibly bright.

In the city, the sky was mostly an afterthought. Here, it felt enormous. Like there was room to breathe. Which somehow made me feel very claustrophobic. It didn’t make any sense, but with Damon beside me, I felt my fight or flight kick in.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” I set my glass down.

He turned to me, and I felt the weight of his stare. “What?”

"You could go dance." I offered, feeling like I was holding him back. Or maybe it was just that it felt so good sitting with him, I wanted to tell him he could go before he decided he was bored. Because then, I was the one in control.

His eyes remained trained on me. "With who?"

I gestured vaguely toward the reception. "I’m pretty sure half the women here would probably volunteer."

"Half?"

"Fine. Three-quarters."

"You're being generous."

"I'm being realistic."

He exhaled slowly as he settled back in the chair, clearly making himself comfortable. "Nah. I'm good right here."

My eyes cut to him, giving him a sideways look. "You're seriously going to sit here with me instead of dancing?"

"Looks that way."

"Why?" I asked, my tone clipped.

He turned toward me again. "Why what?"

"Why would you just sit here?"

He considered me for a moment, his expression losing some of its usual mischief. "Because the only place I want to be is by your side. Dancing was just the excuse."

A flutter stirred in my chest. I chose to ignore it. Like a responsible adult.

Did he not understand that he couldn't just say things like that to a woman who'd carefully constructed an emotional fortress complete with reinforced walls, surveillance cameras, and a moat full of unresolved trust issues?

He probably had an entire collection of lines designed to make otherwise sensible women forget every warning they'd ever been given about him.

The trouble was, he didn't look like he was delivering a line.

He looked sincere.

"You're awfully good at this," I said.

"At what?"

"Saying exactly the right thing."

Damon's smile faded a little. "Wasn't trying to say the right thing."