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Gage frowns and then nods slowly. “It’s a damn slow process. I’ve been working with her for a while now, but she’s standing.”
“By herself?”
Tate Donovan, Aunt Cara’s cousin, had a massive stroke last year. At just over thirty, it was a complete shock to everyone. The stroke was severe enough that it put her in a wheelchair, and she’s had to go through many months of different therapies.
Gage is back from the Army and took the job of helping Tate regain the use of her legs and find her balance.
“By herself,” he confirms. “But I found out she’s been doing too much on her own and fell the other day. Damn stubborn woman.”
I cock my head to the side, watching my friend. “Is something going on with you two besides the working relationship?”
“No.” He sips his beer. “She drives me nuts. Hardheaded, that’s what she is.”
“And you’re the picture of grace and patience. Not to mention flexibility.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh, but then I’m pushed forward when someone stumbles into me from behind.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
I turn, glance down, and feel my heart lurch.
Big, blue eyes.
No, not blue.
Lavender.
“I think I spilled beer on your shoes.” The petite woman with the purple eyes cringes and reaches for a pile of napkins. “I’m never this clumsy. I tripped on that barstool. I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for your shoes if you want.”
“It’s fine.” I touch her shoulder before she leans over to dab at my feet. “Really, it’s fine.”
She blows out a breath, and my dick twitches at the sight of those plump lips.
Jesus, the woman is beautiful.
“You’re not from here,” I say and gesture for her to sit on the stool.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’d remember that gorgeous face.”
A smile flirts with her lips, and a single dimple creases in her right cheek. “No. I’m just in town for a couple of weeks.”
Before she can turn and walk away, I think fast. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I want to hang out with her. Get to know her a bit.
Kiss those delectable lips.
“Want to dance?” I ask and point to the live band up on stage.
“Oh. Uh, sure. I guess.”
I take her hand in mine and wink at Gage before leading her out onto the dance floor. Her hand is dainty, but her grip is strong.
When we start to move, her body glides effortlessly. Her brown hair is up off her neck, and she’s in a tank top that shows off the definition of muscle in her arms and shoulders.
She’s in excellent shape.
And her jeans mold to her ass perfectly.
When one song ends and bleeds into a slow song, I pull her to me, and we move lazily around the space.
She has her nose pressed to my shoulder.
Her breasts push against my chest.
I’ve never been so turned on by a woman after only five minutes.
I glance up and see Gage waving at me. He’s headed out.
I nod in reply.
I’ll call him later.
When the song is over, and with my entire body humming, I escort her back to where I was sitting with Gage.
“You’re a good dancer,” she says.
“All the better for holding gorgeous women.” I wink and then laugh when she just raises a brow. “Okay, that was cheesy. But it was nice to touch you.”
“Are you always this forward?” she asks.
“No, actually. What’s your name?”
“Remi. And you?”
“Seth.” I shake her hand. Rather than letting go, I link my fingers with hers and bring them up to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles.
She grins and doesn’t pull away.
“Remi is a beautiful name.”
“Thanks. So, are you from here?”
“Yes.” I don’t count the years that I spent with Kensie. “Where are you from?”
“Southern California, originally. I’ve been doing some traveling, and I heard this part of the country is beautiful. So far, they’re right.”
“It’s a little late in the season.”
It’s mid-September. Most of the summer activities are closed for the upcoming winter.
“I like to travel when fewer people are around. And I lucked out because the weather has been great. I’m living the van life, and Montana is perfect for it.”
She frowns as if she just realized that she shouldn’t tell a stranger that she’s living in a van.
God, I want to kiss her.
“We could get snow by the weekend.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, right. It’s September.”
“In Montana,” I remind her. “Could happen.”
“How do you know?” Her eyes narrow, and she leans on the tall table to her right. “Are you a weatherman?”
“No.” I laugh and have to curb the impulse to reach out and touch her. “I’m a ranger up in the park, and we’ve seen snow earlier than this up there. The weather reports are calling for a chance of snow in the higher altitudes.”
“But, it’s just a chance. It probably won’t.” She shrugs and frowns at her drink. “I’m not drinking this. I left it alone for too long.”
