She doesn’t pull away.
She looks at me, probably debating whether to punch me or kiss me. And I’m hoping for the latter. Her shoulder brushes mine, and the warmth of her body presses into me.
We try again, this time with a little less insanity. It’s still clumsy. Still off-beat. Still completely ridiculous.
But we’re laughing. And she’s smiling at me as if I’m the only man in this whole damn barn.
Halfway through the song, she stumbles, maybe from someone jostling her, maybe from her heel slipping, right into me.
I catch her. Her hands press flat against my chest. My fingers close around her waist.
This isn’t just about me anymore. Every choice I make echoes into Lila’s world. Letting someone this close doesn’t just risk my heart. It risks hers, too.
Faith wouldn’t just be a woman I want. She’d be someone Lila might love. Someone who could stay… or leave.
The world goes silent to me, even though the music still thumps and people keep dancing around us. None of it reaches me with her this close.
Her breath catches, warm against my jaw.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I should let go.
I don’t.
Her fingers curl against my shirt, tugging me closer. “Dallas…”
Dangerous. So damn dangerous.
I loosen my grip on her waist, but only so I can slide my hand lower, resting on the curve of her hip. It’s instinct. It’s gravity. It’s me being pulled toward her, drowning in this fire between us.
Someone whistles. Probably Nash. Or Clay. Doesn’t matter. I barely hear it.
Faith’s gaze drops to my mouth, and I swear my pulse stops.
That’s it.
I’m gone.
The song changes, but we don’t move.
We’re still standing there, locked together, too close. Our hearts beating in sync, the world spinning around us.
“You wanna…” She swallows. “Step outside? It’s loud.”
I know exactly what stepping outside means. Fewer eyes. Fewer rules. Fewer reasons to stop.
It’s irresponsible. Reckless.
Exactly what I should avoid.
“Yeah.”
We slip out the side door into the cool night. The snow crunches beneath our boots, the air crisp, the sound of distant laughter still echoing from inside, and the smell of woodsmoke from the fire pit drifting in.
The quiet hits us as a tidal wave.
