Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(84)

“As if.” I blow her a kiss. “Your reverse psychology worked. We’ll be there shortly.”

Spinning on her heel, Cass turns to leave. “I promise not to judge when you two sneak away after fifteen minutes.”

I grab our drinks and find a seat with a good view of Denver and Odessa. Spinning, laughing, and busting out their silliest moves in a freestyle dance-off. Sipping the chardonnay does nothing to ease the burning in my core. Instead, my head’s floating, warm and fizzing like I’m submerged in a hot tub. Sinking deeper into the chair, I cross my legs to fight the need for him.

As the last song of the night draws to a close, Denver indulges Odessa in one final twirl before scooting her toward her dad’s waiting arms. Then he saunters over to me, dimples catching the twinkling ceiling lights, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Quite the moves you’ve got there.” I hand him his beer bottle, watching the muscles in his neck as he takes a pull.

“It was all those hours practicing when we were younger. I’m basically the best dancer in town now.” His fingers find their way to my thigh, absentmindedly toying with the silky fabric of my dress. It’s the way touching me seems to be his natural instinct anytime we’re together. A constant need that I pray never fades—his hands belong on my body every moment of every day.

“There’s a fire set up outside. I told Cass we’d go.” Finishing off my glass, I stand up, nearly changing my mind about the fire when his palm slides across my ass, stopping for a quick pat on the cheek before finding a home on my hip.

And that’s how we walk across the tent, weaving through the last remaining party guests. Denver stops off at the bar, grabbing two bottles of beer and an open bottle of wine.

Our hips bump into each other at random while walking down the gravel road to where a propane firepit is flickering. Thanks to the dry summer weather, we’re not allowed real fires, but this works as a good substitute for the ambience. Denver plops into an oversized cushioned lawn chair and tugs me by the waist so I fall into his lap with a startled gasp. Within seconds, I’m conformed to the memory foam of his body like I never left. Cuddled in his arms, my legs slung over his, and the thumb of his free hand lightly stroking my upper arm. Giving up on the wineglass, I sip straight from the dark bottle and stare at the amber fire glow.

By the time Kate and Jackson join us about five minutes later, we’re a group of twelve—including a few ranch hands and a handful of Wells cousins. Kate sits down with a mischievous smile, holding up a bottle of Fireball in triumph.

“I have liquor, no children to be responsible for tonight, and my bed is within walking distance. I’m ready.” She cracks the bottle, still held up in the air, and chugs the most Fireball I’ve ever witnessed a single person consume in one go.

Jackson finally snatches it from her hand, shaking his head with a laugh, and Denny releases his hold on my arm for just long enough to whistle enthusiastically at her. Then Jackson takes a much more acceptable drink from the bottle before passing it along to Colt. Slowly, it works through Denver’s cousins, skips Cass and Red, and ends up in my hands.

“Oh God. I don’t think you guys want me drinking this. Things will get weird in a hurry.”

“Oh, just do it!” Kate shouts, then quickly mouths “sorry” when Red points out the sleeping baby in the stroller next to him.

I lock eyes with Denver, who raises a daring brow. “Maybe don’t drink quite as much as Kate.”

“I would be lying facedown in the dirt if I did.” I press the rim to my mouth, and it clinks against my teeth accidentally when I take the smallest sip possible.

The cinnamon-flavored liquid burns down my throat, and I wince while handing it off to Denver.

“We should play a game.” Kate claps her hands together, waiting anxiously for the Fireball to be passed back to her.

“Oh, Cassidy loves Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Red quips.

She smacks him on the chest, mouth agape, and he coughs dramatically like she knocked the wind out of him.

“Way to throw me under the bus at your first opportunity,” she says.

Denver tosses his hands up in the air. “Every girl here is taken, so how exactly would that work, anyway? I didn’t think this was that kind of party.”

Every girl here is taken. With a relaxed exhale, I melt into him.

“Never have I ever,” Kate suggests. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever…had sex in that barn.” Her finger sloppily points in the direction of the large white barn…a place Denver and I spent many hours in as teens.

He and I both drink without question until I lower my bottle and find everybody staring. Kate gives us a slow clap, elbowing Jackson.

Clearing my throat, I clarify, “Not recently, for the record. At least…not for me.”

“Not for me either,” Denver whispers into my hair. “Although…for old times’ sake.”

Jackson thinks for a second, staring at Denver with the look of somebody prepared to spill every secret about his brother. “Okay…never have I ever had sex in a stock trailer.”

I turn to Denver and gasp. “You told him that?”

He stares at me like a deer in the headlights, slowly raising his beer to his lips. His free hand nudges the bottom of my wine, telling me to drink.

Red’s howling laugh carries around the fire. “Where haven’t you two done it?”