Chapter 26
Paige
The tavern had never looked like this before.
It was close to perfect. Exactly like I’d always envisioned it.
Twinkle lights glowed from the rafters, softening every corner.
The new light fixtures gleamed overhead, casting warm pools over the polished bar and the tables Piper had insisted on covering in purple runners and little vases of fresh flowers.
The jukebox—brand new and loaded with updated music—hummed with a mix of old favorites and songs that made people laugh in delight when the first notes hit.
Lark and Briar were in the middle of the room, giggling and dancing with my grandma, their hair curled and shiny under the lights. Noah had made it home just in time. He was standing near the pool table with Grandpa, the two of them watching the chaos like it was better than TV.
And me? I was in the purple dress my mom had insisted on buying, sequins catching the light every time I moved.
The heels were higher than I usually dared to wear, but somehow, they worked.
Piper had teased me mercilessly while she zipped me into it, saying if this didn’t make me look like a woman who was forty and fabulous and finally ready to live again, nothing would.
The place was full—friends, neighbors, my regular customers, the people who’d seen me at my lowest and still showed up anyway. Laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses filled the air. For the first time in months, it didn’t sound like pressure. It sounded like joy.
And then the door opened.
The hum of conversation didn’t exactly stop, but it shifted. Heads turned. A ripple of attention moved through the crowd as he walked in—broad shoulders, dark jacket, his hair a little messy like he’d run a hand through it one too many times.
I felt it too—the way the whole place seemed to tilt toward him. People loved him here. Admired him. Trusted him. But to me, it was more than that. It was the way my heart lurched like it had just recognized home. I didn’t think. I couldn’t. I just ran to him. Ran home.
Past the tables, past the bar where Piper was grinning like she already knew what I was about to do. Past the cluster of women near the jukebox who had started whispering behind their hands, eyes fixed on him.
He hadn’t spotted me yet—he was scanning the room, taking it all in. But when his gaze landed on me, it softened, like the weight of the whole night had just eased off his shoulders.
That was all it took.
I ran straight up to him, heels clicking on the worn wood floor, the dress shimmering with every step. And before anyone could start speculating—or maybe because I knew they already were—I slid my hand up his chest, rose on my toes, and kissed him.
Not a quick, shy brush of lips. A real kiss. One that left no room for doubt. Hunter Cassidy was mine, and it was time to claim him like he deserved.
The tavern erupted in cheers, laughter, and a couple of whistles. But all I felt was the warmth of him, steady and sure, kissing me back like we’d never paused, never doubted, never stopped wanting this.
When I finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, I didn’t care who had seen. For once, I didn’t care about the whispers, the gossip, the risks. All I cared about was him.
He looked at me then, and in his eyes I saw everything—love so deep it felt like an anchor, threaded through with longing as if he’d been waiting for this moment for ages.
Relief flickered across his face, softening the tension in his jaw, settling in the curve of his lips as if just seeing me had put every piece back in place.
It was all there, plain as day, and the world seemed to narrow down to the connection humming quietly between us, undeniable and whole.
And then he kissed me.
His lips were warm, familiar in a way that still managed to steal my breath. When I broke the kiss, I stayed close, my hand lingering on his chest, the rise and fall of it beneath my palm reminding me he was just as rattled as I was.
The room blurred around us—clinking glasses, laughter, someone starting up another round of “Happy Birthday” in the corner—but it all faded under the pulse in my ears.
I’d done it. I’d kissed him in front of everyone. My best friend. The man who had shown up for me again and again, who had fixed my bar and my freezer and maybe even pieces of my heart without asking for anything in return. And now everyone knew.
I should’ve been panicked. Terrified of what Eli could do, of what gossip would spin out of this. But as I looked up into Hunter’s eyes—those warm, beautiful, blue eyes softening in the glow of the tavern lights—all I felt was relief.
The cheer from the crowd rose again, pulling me back into the moment.
Piper was outright beaming from behind the bar, raising her glass in a mock toast before mouthing, finally.
My mom and grandma were standing near the cake with the girls, clapping like they’d just witnessed a wedding instead of a kiss.
Even Noah, who was usually too cool to react to anything, was grinning at me from across the room.
I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting of tears. Gratitude, joy, fear—they all tangled together, hot and messy in my chest.
But when Hunter’s hand slid over mine, his thumb brushing once against my knuckles, everything quieted inside me. For the first time in a long time, I let myself stand there and simply soak it in.
“I missed you. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Hunter leaned down, his breath brushing against my ear over the noise. “Come with me.”
It wasn’t a question. But it wasn’t a demand either. Just that quiet, steady tone he always used when he knew I needed space. I nodded before I could think better of it.
The room buzzed with chatter and music as we threaded our way through. People smiled, clapped me on the back, raised their glasses in teasing acknowledgment, but I barely heard them. My hand was in Hunter’s, warm and strong, guiding me past the jukebox and down the short hallway toward the back.
We slipped into my little office-slash-storage room, the door clicking shut on the hum of voices. It was quiet here, shadows stretching long over the desk stacked with invoices, the scent of birthday cake and spilled beer lingering faintly in the air.
My heart was still racing, half from the kiss, half from the fact that I’d done it in front of everyone. I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to steady myself.
Hunter watched me with hot eyes, leaning against the desk, his shoulders broad in the low light. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, god, his eyes gave him away. Soft, careful, and so full of something I didn’t know how to name without cracking open.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Was that okay?”
“Are you serious right now?” He chuckled darkly. “It was more than okay. It was everything I’ve ever wanted.”
The corner of my mouth tugged, a shaky, almost-smile. “Half the town probably thinks we’re engaged now,” I teased to lighten the mood.
His mouth curved just a little. “Let ’em.”
I laughed then, short and nervous, but it loosened something in my chest. I crossed my arms, then dropped them again because it felt too much like shielding myself.
“You okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low, steady.
I met his gaze, and for once, I didn’t look away. “I don’t know. But I know I needed you here. Tonight. With me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and then he pushed away from the desk, closing the distance between us. He cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
And when he kissed me this time—slow, lingering, nothing rushed—it wasn’t about the crowd or the gossip or even the birthday cake waiting outside.
It was just us.
Hunter’s mouth lingered against mine, slow and unhurried, but it didn’t stay that way.
His hands slid down, one anchoring at my waist, the other slipping lower to press me closer.
The heat between us sparked fast, familiar, and I melted into it, my fingers sliding up his chest to grip the back of his neck.
“Hunter…” I breathed against his lips, not sure if it was meant as a warning or a plea.
“Paige,” he murmured, voice rough, like my name had been living in his chest too long.
His mouth slanted over mine again, hungrier this time.
I gasped, the sound swallowed by the way he kissed me—deeper, harder—until my back hit the wall beside the filing cabinet.
The cool plaster sent a shiver down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his thigh slid between mine.
I clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, all of him, right here in the dim back room while the whole damn town was only a thin wall away.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” he whispered, breathless.
“I don’t care,” I whispered as his forehead rested against mine.
“They’ll know what we’re up to.” His lips brushed against mine with every word. “God, I’ve gone too long without touching you, and it damn near killed me.”
Something hot and dangerous unfurled in my chest. My hands slid under his shirt, palms against warm skin, feeling the solid lines of him, the way his muscles tightened under my touch.
He groaned low in his throat, his hips pressing into mine, the movement making me bite my lip to keep from crying out. His hand trailed up my side, thumb brushing over a nipple, and I arched into him without thinking.
“Paige,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to search my face. “We have to stop.”
“We don’t,” I whispered, tugging him down into another kiss. “Don’t stop. At least not yet.”
It was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that said too much—everything we’d been holding back. His hand slid under my dress, fingers skimming the bare skin of my thigh, and I nearly came undone right there.
The muffled sound of laughter drifted from the bar, jolting me back just enough to press a hand to his chest. My breathing was ragged, my lips swollen. “I need you,” I groaned. “So much.”
“Fuck, Paige, we can’t… not here. Not now.” His jaw clenched, his thumb tracing my cheek as if he couldn’t quite let go. His voice was gravelly when he spoke.
“Then tell me where or when. Because I can’t keep pretending I don’t need you.” I swallowed hard, torn between the pull of the party outside and the gravity of him right here, holding me like he was afraid I’d vanish if he loosened his grip.
My pulse was wild; my answer caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat.
Hunter’s lips brushed mine again, softer now, but no less urgent. His breath was ragged against my cheek as his hand lingered high on my thigh, the heat of it making my whole body hum.
“We can’t,” He whispered again, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. He pulled back a fraction, his forehead pressed to mine, his chest rising and falling hard against me.
“I know.”
“Step away, Paige.” His voice was low, gravelly, wrecked. “I can’t seem to stop.”
My hands fisted in his shirt, not pulling him closer, not pushing him away—just holding on, like he was the only solid thing in the room. I could still taste him on my lips, feel the pulse of his heartbeat under my palms.
“Hunter…” I breathed, unable to move.
Outside, the music shifted on the jukebox, the muffled cheer of voices swelling with it. The reminder that we weren’t alone slid in between us, sharp as glass.
He let out a shaky breath. “They’ll notice if we’re gone too long.”
His jaw flexed, his eyes searching mine. “We have time. You’re mine now, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about it.”
God, the way he said it. Fierce. Unapologetic. Like I was worth the risk of every whisper in this small town.
But my chest ached with the weight of all the things still unsettled—Eli, the kids, the bar. Us.
I smoothed my hands over his chest, trying to steady both of us. “You’re right. We have all the time in the world…” I started, but I didn’t finish. Because the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing that had ever mattered—made the words dissolve on my tongue.
So I kissed him once more, quick but sure, before stepping back. The loss of his warmth hit me instantly, like stepping outside on the coldest morning.
He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly, as if he was trying to pack every frayed emotion back inside. Then he nodded once, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Later.”
And that word—later—lit something low in my stomach, a promise tucked into two syllables.
I smoothed my dress, forced my breathing to calm, and reached for the doorknob. When I glanced back at him, his eyes were still on me, dark and steady, like he could pin me in place with nothing more than a look.
It took everything I had to turn away.
I opened the door, the noise of the party rushing back in—music, laughter, the faint clatter of glasses behind the bar. The air out there felt cooler, thinner, like I’d left every bit of heat and danger behind in that little room.
But Hunter followed me, close enough that I could feel his presence even without touching. His hand brushed mine briefly—just a ghost of contact, but enough to send a shiver up my arm. I didn’t dare look at him. Not yet.
Out in the main room, Piper spotted me, then lit the candles on the cake.
Eliza herded people into place, and Cara corralled my kids into the front for the big moment.
The energy was bright, buzzing, full of love—and I tried to let it wash over me, to pull me back into the version of myself who could smile without her pulse still racing.
“Paige!” someone called from near the bar, waving me over. I pasted on a smile, adjusted the strap of my purple dress, and stepped into the crowd.
I laughed at a joke, accepted a hug from one of the regulars, let Piper kiss my cheek with frosting still on her fingers—but underneath it all, my skin still burned where Hunter’s hands had been.
And when the crowd started singing, when the candles flickered in the dimmed light, I closed my eyes to make a wish.
The only thing I could think of was him.
Hunter peeled off toward the back, quiet and steady as always, but I felt the weight of his gaze across the room. It was like a tether between us, invisible but unbreakable.