“You cross-examine like that, and I’m never winning another argument,” he said.
“Good,” she replied lightly. “I like my odds.”
They wandered toward the stage where people had begun dancing barefoot in the grass. The river moved beyond the lights, dark and slow, the sound of water a low murmur beneath the music.
Reid’s fingers brushed against the back of her hand once, twice as they walked. On the third pass, he closed his hand around hers.
She hesitated enough that he felt it. Old habits rose—professional lines, small-town gossip, the weight of other people’s expectations. She’d rebuilt everything here; she knew exactly how quickly it could all tilt.
“What if someone sees?” she asked, voice softer now, the words almost lost under the drumbeat.
He looked at her, at the flicker of worry behind the challenge. It would be so easy to joke, to step back, keep things neat and deniable.
“So what if they do?”
“You’re the District Attorney,” she said. The title sounded formal and distant compared to the way his hand felt wrapped around hers.
“And you’re the best defense attorney in three counties.”
“That’s exactly my point.”
He tightened his grip on her hand, his thumb stroking once over the soft skin at the base of her thumb.
“I’ve spent my whole career worrying about how things look,” he said. “Maybe I get one night where I care more about how something feels.”
The honesty in his tone caught her off-guard. He wasn’t pushing boundaries for the thrill; he was choosing her—here, in the open, with full awareness of what it might cost.
“I can’t pretend this is a business lunch, Ellie.”
The way he said her name, low and intimate, meant only for her, sent a small shiver through her. Her heart kicked up, matching the lazy thrum of the bass.
“I don’t want to pretend,” she admitted.
It was the closest she’d come to saying aloud that he scared her and steadied her at the same time.
The band shifted into a slow song, the rhythm loosening, voices turning husky. Reid tugged gently on her hand, guiding her toward the small dance area near the stage.
“Dance with me,” he said.
She glanced at the people around them, couples pressed close, hands on hips and shoulders, faces tipped together in the glow of the lanterns. Years of keeping her distance—in court, in town, in her own heart—pressed up against the urge to step into his arms and stop thinking.
“Now that someone might actually see?”
“Especially now.”
Something in his eyes knocked her a little off balance.
She laughed softly, more from nerves than humor, and stepped closer.
His hand settled at her waist, a steady weight through the thin fabric of her dress. He drew her toward him, closing the last inches of space between their bodies. The contact sent awareness sliding up her spine.
They began to sway with the music, slow and easy. Eleanor rested her free hand lightly against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm. Each small shift of his hips moved her with him.
Lantern light flickered across the river behind them, casting moving shadows over their faces. The crowd blurred into a wash of color and sound.
He’d danced at enough formal events to know the steps, but this felt different. Every place their bodies touched said I want this...even if neither of them had the courage to say the words out loud yet.
Reid leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below her ear.
