“You mountain men are all the same,” she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw. “Six months of Thursday mornings. Six months of me thinking you were just being polite when you came in for lag bolts you didn’t need.”
“I was never polite, Frankie. I was patient.”
“Patient,” she repeated, and I watched her mouth curve despite herself. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Would you have believed me if I’d asked you out the first day?” I challenged. “If I’d walked in and said I wanted to take you home?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her cheeks flushed.
“Exactly.” I pulled her closer. “You would have thought I was teasing. Or playing some kind of rich-guy game. You wouldn’t have trusted it was real.”
“So you tricked me into a fake relationship to prove it was real?” But she was fighting a smile now, her brain catching up to what her heart already knew.
“I didn’t trick you, Frankie. In fact, I believe you kissed me first.” I swung her around, making her gasp.
“What? That was supposed to be a quick peck on the cheek. You’re the one who turned his head.”
“Damn right, I did. I used it to my advantage.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she shook her head slowly, a laugh escaping despite herself. “I can’t believe I’m not mad about this.”
“Are you sure you’re not?” I asked carefully.
“Oh, I should be furious.” Her hands slid back around my neck, her body pressing against mine. “But all I can think about is that you’ve wanted me this whole time. That this—” she gestured between us “—wasn’t charity or convenience or rebound. You actually want me.”
“I more than want you, Frankie.” I pulled her impossibly closer, until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. “The question is—are you with me?”
She looked up at me, and I saw everything I needed to see there. Want. Need. And something deeper that made my chest tight.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m with you.”
I kissed her then, right there in the middle of the dance floor with two hundred people watching. I kissed her like I’d been starving for her, because I had been. For six months. For every smile she’d given me across that hardware counter.
When I finally pulled back, I almost stopped breathing she was so damn beautiful. Her hair was now a wild mess, her lipswet and swollen, and her eyes were full of the same need that was clawing at my insides.
“For God’s sake, Max, get a room!” someone hollered from the sidelines, probably a drunk uncle or one of Leo’s embarrassed friends.
“Do you want me, Frankie?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
She didn’t hesitate. She reached up, her hand cupping my jaw, her thumb grazing my lower lip. “I’ve wanted you for months, Max. I just didn’t think you wanted me back.”
I didn’t need to hear another word.
I reached down, my hands hooking behind her knees and her back, and I swept her up into my arms, carrying her like a bride.
“Max!” she squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed.” I started walking, my stride long and purposeful. “I’m done waiting. I’m done pretending. I’m done dancing around what I want.”
“We’re leaving? Now?”
“Not exactly.” I didn’t look at the crowd. I didn’t look at Tiffany, who was probably staring at us with her perfectly composed face finally cracking. I didn’t look at Leo, who was giving us a wide berth from across the room.
I walked straight across the dance floor, and someone pulled open the heavy oak doors. The noise of the wedding faded into nothing as I headed for the elevators.
I didn’t put her down. Not when we stepped into the mirrored car. Not when I bent my head and devoured her mouth while the elevator rose to the top floor.
“This is insane,” she whispered against my lips.
