“They’re only staring because we’re sitting on the same side of this booth, which is fucking weird.”
Her head snaps up as she hisses, “You’re the one who yanked me in here beside you!”
I smile at her because I like when she’s feisty and shit. Normally, I’d hate the sensation of being boxed into a corner where there’s no view of the door and no easy escape. It’s a terrible defensive position. But it was worth it to not leave her alone on the other side, exposed to prying eyes—worth it to feel Bailey so close for an entire meal.
I reach up and drape an arm over her shoulders, pulling her stiff body into mine. Then I drop my head, dusting my lips over the shell of her ear. “Fuck yeah, I did. And I’d do it again.”
When she tilts her face up to mine, her breath whispers against my lips as her eyes move around my face.
We’re seated in the fanciest steakhouse that Chestnut Springs offers. It’s booked solid, full of people, on a Thursday night that coincides with the kickoff of our weeklong town fair.
But when she looks at me with this intensity, our surroundings melt away.
I don’t know how no one else sees it. Sees her. It’s like we’re all staring at the same painting and every other person in this town is missing the point.
Without thinking too long about it, I drop my head closer and let a sliver of light through the door of our arrangement. An opening for her to kiss me.
“We should go,” she whispers, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her soft lips graze my rough stubble, and I’m transported back to that night at 2:11 when she came into my room. Those same lips against my chest. Her tight heat around my fingers. My utter lack of control to stop myself where she was concerned.
“Thanks for dinner.” The words filter back to me as she turns to slide herself out of the booth. Another delicate, feminine summer dress, this time in blue, trails behind her on the leather bench.
I swallow hard and follow her, muttering under my breath, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
With a stiff back, she twists the engagement ring on her finger while people stare. She’s uncomfortable. It’s written all over her body, which is why my arm is back around her in no time.
I hug her against my side as we walk through the restaurant. “Do it, sugar. Put your hand in my back pocket. You know you want to,” I murmur before pressing a soft kiss to her hair.
Someone gasps, followed by a trail of harsh whispers.
He’s been through a lot.
War changes people.
I’m sure it’s just a phase.
It makes me furious. It makes me want to lay Bailey in the middle of their table and kiss her senseless just to prove a fucking point.
But that would be impulsive.
So I don’t.
I kiss her hair again, and though I know she must have heard their cruel sentiments … she slides her hand into my back pocket, and we push out into the sunny summer evening.
The sounds of the fair filter down from the end of Rosewood Street. Buzzers buzzing, bells ringing, children screaming. The air smells like popcorn and cinnamon mini donuts. We follow that tantalizing scent down the sidewalk.
My arm slung over her shoulder, her hand in my pocket.
And all the way to the fair, neither of us draws away.
22
Beau
Harvey: Haven’t seen you lately.
Beau: Haven’t seen you lately either.
Harvey: Been busy.
Beau: Yeah? With who?
Harvey: You know.
Beau: No, I don’t. You haven’t told me a single thing.
Harvey: Rich coming from you.
Beau: So, anything you want to tell me, old man? About you? Your life? Any news to share?
Harvey: Nope. Not a thing. Mind your business.
Beau: Chicken.
I swing the oversized hammer over my shoulder one final time, bringing it down with every bit of power I can muster.
I channel every ounce of frustration that bubbles inside of me—that constant feeling of this life not being enough. Of never being satisfied.
I’m realizing I am deeply unsettled and constantly peeking around every corner for that little bit extra. That one thing that will give me some sense of peace.
I thought a good old-fashioned fair game would do the trick.
The hammer hits the pad, and the weight flies up to the top. The sharp ding of metal rings out around us, and the surrounding people watching cheer. I turn, all puffed up like a teenager showing off for his crush.
Except today it’s for my fiancée. I flex and kiss a bicep like a total tool. But I don’t care. The girl laughing at me makes it worth the embarrassment.