Page 21 of Trying Not to Need You

I finish my task, place the skillet back on the stove, and reach for my phone to turn down the music, but I stop because the perfect song comes on. “I’m Gonna Love You” by Cody Johnson and Carrie Underwood hums through the speaker. My new motto in life is to never miss an opportunity again, at least not where Baylor is concerned.

Instead of turning it down, I turn it up, walk around the counter, and slide my arm around her waist.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, her hands resting on my chest, as she tilts her head back to peer up at me.

“Dancing.”

“What about dinner?”

“It’s ready, but first—” I grab her hand and twirl her out in front of me, before pulling her back into my chest. This time, I don’t let her go. I tighten my hold on her as we gently sway to the music. “First,” I murmur, my hand settling more firmly at the small of her back, “I get this.”

Her soft laughter mingles with the music, and this moment makes my chest feel too tight and too full all at once. She doesn’t fight me. She doesn’t even hesitate. She just lets me guide her as we sway between the stove and the center island, the smell of dinner hanging warm in the air around us.

Her fingers curl slightly into my shirt, like she’s grounding herself. Or maybe like she’s holding on. Damn, do I hope she’s holding on.

“Is this how you woo all the ladies?” she asks, one brow lifting. There’s no bite in her tone, just curiosity, maybe a little nerves.

I huff out a quiet laugh. “No.”

“No?” Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m serious.

“No,” I repeat, softer now. “I’ve only done this with you.”

The words hang there between us. I could offer her more. I could tell her I don’t have women here, in my home, but instead, I keep quiet, letting my words settle between us. I’m done taking things back when it comes to her. Done pretending this is anything less than what it is.

Her steps falter for half a second, just enough that I feel it. Just enough that I tighten my hold, steadying her. “Careful,” I tease gently. “Can’t have you backing out on me now.”

“I’m not,” she says quickly, almost too quickly. Then quieter, she adds, “I’m just… trying to catch up, I think. And I’m here for dinner. Backing out would mean me leaving, and it smells too good for that.” She grins.

“Yeah.” I nod, my thumb brushing slow circles against her side. “I don’t bring people here,” I confess. I said I wasn’t going to, but fuck it. I’m all in with her. I can see her mind racing from the look in her eyes, and I don’t want her to question this or me. I have nothing to hide.

I realize that she does have some catching up to do. I’ve replayed our earlier conversation over and over again. It’s all I’ve been able to think about today. I realize I jumped right in, no parachute for my heart, but that’s all right, because I’m determined not to need one.

I know this seems sudden to her, and my hope is that, after tonight, after I tell her everything, how I started to notice her, how I wanted to take my shot, and was going to, and then life happened. I hope once she hears it all, she’ll understand that this is real to me. The way I want her, this isn’t just the chase; this is everything I am, and it’s all on the line for her.

I guide her into another slow turn, not fancy, just enough to make her smile again when she comes back into me. That smile… it hits me square in the chest like it always does. I’ve longed for all her smiles to be mine, and fuck, this feels like that wish might become my reality.

“I meant what I said,” I tell her, my voice dropping a notch as the song carries on around us. “About telling you everything tonight.” I don’t want her to think I brought her here to seduce her. I know we’re not there yet, even if I’d give anything to explore every inch of her soft skin.

Her gaze flickers, a mix of nerves and something softer, something I can’t name. “Everything?” Her brow furrows because she has no idea how long I’ve wanted her, but after tonight, she will.

“Yeah.” I swallow, because I’ve wished for this moment for years, and it’s finally here. We’re in the same place, same time, both single, but hopefully, not for long. “It’s a good story. A love story,” I murmur, my lips next to her ear.

Her breath catches. I feel it more than hear it.

“A love story? I didn’t peg you for the type to be a love story kind of guy, more shoot ’em up western if I had to guess,” she teases, trying to lighten the moment. “I thought I was getting dinner and some rodeo tales.”

She’s bluffing, and we both know it. “And you still agreed to come over?” I add, a crooked smile tugging at my mouth. “Brave.”

She huffs out a quiet laugh, but she doesn’t look away this time. “Or stupid.”

“Not stupid,” I say, shaking my head, my hand sliding just a little higher on her back, keeping her close. “You showed up. That’s… everything, Baylor.”

The song dips into the chorus again, and for a second, neither of us says anything. We just move, slow and easy, like maybe this isn’t the first time, like maybe it won’t be the last either.

I really hope it’s not the last.

I want all of her dances, and she can have all of mine.