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She’d turned away, striking up a conversation with Laney like we were perfect strangers.
Like we didn’t have a history, no matter how brief.
Like the moment we’d shaken hands didn’t have a bolt of lightning shooting up her arm and straight into her throat, removing her ability to say more than a single word for a solid twenty minutes.
Apparently, that was just me.
I’d known her from the second I’d heard her voice, but even if I hadn’t, I sure would’ve when we’d gotten face-to-face. Especially when we’d shaken hands. Had she not felt that familiar spark of recognition the moment her hand had slid into mine? It’d shot right through me, and yet, she’d looked completely unaffected.
Who knew? Maybe she shook hands with the men she’d ensnared with her beauty and charm only to squash like a bug later all the time. Stranger things had happened.
Now, by the fire, my gaze lingered on her. I traced the delicate curve of her neck, the way the light and her occasional laughter danced in her eyes. Then, she threw her head back, laughing at something Aubree said. The sound was a dang siren’s call, threatening to pull me under.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to march over there and demand answers—to ask if she really didn’t remember me, or if this was all some twisted game.
But I couldn’t do that. Not here, not now.
Not with my family all around, watching my every move like a hawk.
Instead, I forced myself to look away, focusing again on the crackling flames, the smell of woodsmoke, and Dakota’s roasted marshmallows. Because, yes, they were Dakota’s. She didn’t care that everyone else was still full from dinner. She’d brought out the whole bag of fluffy white goodness, keeping it securely in her lap.
As Laney’s song drew to a close, I noticed Everett slipping away from the fire and into the house, and my thoughts drifted to our supper earlier. I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off Paisley then, either. In fact, at one point, my old man had even kicked me under the table.
I hadn’t realized I was being so obvious.
But even though I’d chimed in during their discussion of Laney’s music career, and it was my idea for the Wilsons to join the Coles for the trip to one of Laney’s concerts, Paisley hadn’t reacted any differently to me than she had to Jackson or Everett.
Laney finished playing her song, and everyone clapped, startling me from my thoughts. I watched as Paisley applauded, her smile bright and genuine.
Then, Jackson leaned over to me, his voice low and conspiratorial.“You need to get your head on straight before Laney’s manager files a restrainin’ order against you.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“You’ve been starin’ at her all night,” Jackson said, his eyes flickering to Paisley. “At some point, don’t you think she’s gonna get a little creeped out?”
I cut him a look, and leaned back with his palms out, not saying another word.
Brothers.
As the other two Cole sisters took Laney’s guitar and started singing, I pushed myself to my feet. Enough was enough. I was tired of staring at Paisley from afar, tired of the questions and doubts swirling in my mind.
I had to speak with her.
While everyone else was distracted by the campfire singing, I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I knelt beside the Adirondack chair Paisley was sitting in. My heart hammered in my chest as I leaned closer, catching a whiff of her perfume—something floral and spicy that made my head spin.
“Can I have a word?” I asked, my voice low and rough.
She glanced at me, her green eyes flickering with something unreadable before she shrugged. “Sure.”
Her nonchalance stung, but I pushed the feeling aside as we slipped away from the fire, the laughter and chatter fading behind us. We headed for the sideyard between the Cole’s house and ours, the old wooden fence casting long shadows in the grass.
We really work on knocking down that fence. It would make it easier for the mommas to have their morning coffee together without having to deal with the gate.
But that was a thought for another time. I was just stalling, and we hadn’t even started talking yet.
We reached the secluded spot and I turned to face her, taking in the face that’d been hidden by a mask that night. And the way the moonlight played across her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips? If I’d seen her whole face that night, she would’ve been even harder to forget than she already was.
But I was glad to see her now. Truly. And not just because she was beautiful or because my fingers itched to reach up, trailing them through her hair. It was shorter, but just as pretty, and I liked the way it brushed against her jawline.
