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My palms rested on the back of his hands while he rubbed my belly, and my laugh quieted.
“We’ve got some time. We’ll figure it out. But I promise—” Duke dropped a tender kiss in the spot where the base of my neck met my shoulder. “If you trust me, I’ll make this room perfect.”
If you trust me.
The deep rumble of his voice played on a loop in my head before I finally whispered, “I trust you.”
A happy hum sounded from behind me as Duke moved his hands from my belly down my back to cup my ass. “Good, now that we’ve got that settled, get ready.” His hand landed with athwackon my butt. “I’m taking you out.”
I spun, facing him with big round eyes. “A date? Dinner?”
God, it was absurd how obsessed with food I had become.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “A date.” He ran the tip of his nose down mine. “But it will also include food. I’m no fool.”
I beamed up at him.
“Can you be ready in thirty?”
Excitement danced through me as the baby kicked in delighted agreement. “If it includes something fried, I can be ready in twenty.”
Duke’s hand smoothed down my cheek before landing softly on my neck as he plopped a kiss on my lips. “You got yourself a deal.”
The Fried Fisherman’sFeast sat in my delightfully full tummy as Duke held open the large wooden door to the Grudge. Only days after Christmas, it still had the rustic charm of a honky-tonk dressed up for the holidays. Garland swag adorned the stage. The mirror behind the bar held a large wreath, but if you looked closely, there were little skeletons matching the Grudge’s logo in Santa hats.
My eyes flicked to the east and west sides of the bar. It was common knowledge that when townies entered the Grudge Holder, you picked a side. I froze with the assumption that Duke would obviously pick the west side, nestling comfortably in a slew of Sullivans and their allies. On the King side, cousins and family friends eyed us, their drinks paused midway to their mouths as they gaped.
The scene unfolded in a matter of seconds. Duke paused for only a fraction of that time before heading straight toward an open high-top table near the center of the room. Relief washed over me as Duke slid out the high-back chair and helped me into it.
“You good?” His eyes searched my face.
“Yep!” I chirped a little too loudly and grabbed the plastic menu to do something with my trembling hands. Duke folded his large frame into the seat across from me and leaned back,looking completely at ease in the tense surroundings, like a king in his throne.
A small laugh shotgunned out of me. The irony of that thought was not lost on me. Duke’s chin tipped in my direction in silent question. Instead of answering, I dropped my eyes to the menu and started scanning.
“Is Brutus ready for a snack?”
I shot him a bored look with steady eyes. “Hard. Pass.”
He chuckled as I settled against the back of the stool and absently rubbed my bump. “I think he’s still content with the fifty pounds of popcorn shrimp I just housed.”
His eyes flicked down, then back up as a waitress stepped up to our table. “Hey, folks, what can I get started for you tonight?” Nerves buzzed off her as her smile faltered and her eyes flicked between us.
He nodded for me to go ahead, and I ordered. “A strawberry lemonade with a splash of Sprite, please.”
His lips pursed before his attention drew back to the waitress. “I’ll have the same and a basket of fried pickles.”
She nodded and scooped up our menus before hurrying away.
Duke winked at me. “Just in case.”
Butterflies erupted in my belly at the same time as the baby kicked. Clearly, fried food was this kid’s love language.
It was early on a Thursday night, which meant a live band hadn’t set up yet, but music pumped from the jukebox. My fingers tapped the rhythm to the old nineties country song as I watched couples two-step on the dance floor. I watched as Annie and Duke’s brother Lee danced circles around everyone in town. They had for years, but it was only recently they finally stopped denying the magnetic pull toward each other.
My eyes flicked to Duke, and I wondered if maybe we were doing the same thing—letting our names and family historydefine whatever this was between us when there was no denying there was an invisible string attaching me to him. A string I couldn’t imagine ever being broken.
Duke’s large hand captured mine, mid-beat. He slid from his chair and stood next to mine, pulling me to stand. He tipped his head toward the dance floor. “Come on.”
