CHAPTER 27 #2
Actually, fuck that, he’s not smiling. He’s practically exploding with joy.
Like this was his damn plan all along.
Asshole.
Tally wrenches her elbow from my grip and spins on me. “What are you doing?”
The damn cowboy song is coming to an end, thank fuck, but Tally’s voice comes out loud now that the strumming has stopped. It feels like all eyes in the brewery are on us.
“The Daffodil Festival,” I say pathetically, stepping into her space, keeping my voice down.
Tally’s hand falls to her hip as she stares me down. “What about it?”
Reaching for any excuse to get out of here, I grumble, “The chairs. We never cleaned ’em.”
Tally’s face scrunches reasonably in confusion. Because I’m not making any fucking sense.
“Okay …,” she says hesitantly.
“So no more dancing. We have to go,” I say, digging my grave even deeper.
She rolls her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh before turning toward Eli. “Thanks for the dance.”
“Anytime, Tally.”
She breezes past Eli and rushes toward the bar, probably to tell her sister and Rosie what an idiot I am. I grip the back of my neck, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“Don’t go soft now, friend,” Eli says, stepping up beside me and turning with me to watch Tally grab her things. “You were just about to rip my head off. Use that.”
He grins before pushing me toward the bar, and my chest rumbles in annoyance.
I played right into his stupid plan, and now I have to own it. I was jealous. Am jealous. I don’t want anyone to touch her. But what the hell am I going to do about that? If I’m not going to touch her, not going to claim her, then I can’t stop her from letting someone else.
My fists clench and I know I’m not allowing that to happen. But before I can make it to the bar, Tally is storming through the crowd and disappearing out into the cool spring evening.
When I get outside, she’s standing there, arms crossed, waiting for me. “Where’s your truck?”
“I walked.”
Her eyes narrow. “So you walked here but you just didn’t want to walk with me?”
She seems even more annoyed by this revelation. But before I can think of a way to tell her I walked because she walked—that I want to walk beside her at all times and I hate myself for it—she spins and huffs in the direction of the farm.
“Tally, wait.” I run after her. And then I’m chasing her into the field because of course she doesn’t stay on the gravel. She goes for the dirt, where there are divots and uneven ground that could take either of us down.
The sky lights up and then, with a loud crack of thunder, a sheet of rain pours down on us. Tally doesn’t even pause—if anything, she almost seems to jump in excitement—and then she’s heading away from the house and farther into the acres of land that I love.
“Where are you going?” I holler.
“To dance in the wildflowers!” she yells as she rushes toward that field.
“What?”
She spins around, a smile on her face, and continues walking backward. Her dress is already clinging to her incredible curves, the ruffles at the hem getting caught between her legs. “It’s my favorite thing to do when it’s raining.”
She laughs and then turns on her heel, rushing away from me again. Even over the steady cadence of the rain, I hear her warm laughter calling to me like a siren. I can’t leave her out here.
And hell, I’m tired of lying because Lord knows I don’t want to. I want to dance with her in the damn meadow. Beneath the angry moon that’s peeking out between the clouds.
I pick up my pace and catch up with her quickly. Grabbing her by the waist, I spin her toward me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, panting for air.
Her wild hair falls across her face and clings to her mouth. I keep one hand around her waist and with the other, I untangle the locks from her lips, pushing them back behind her ear. “I was thinking I’d dance with you.”
Her eyes light up and I swear they keep me warm even as the cold rain falls on us. With a smile on her lips, she whispers, “But I thought you don’t dance?”
I don’t answer her question with words. I pull her to my chest and then, while humming “Wildflower” by Tom Petty, I twirl her around as the spring shower soaks us.
With her cheek against my chest, I’m sure she can feel the unsteady pounding of my heart. She tilts her head up to me and murmurs, “You’re a secret romantic, huh?”
I’d laugh if it was funny. Of all the things I’ve been called in my life, a romantic isn’t one of them. I’m sure my ex would tell Tally to run far away unless she wants someone who does nothing but grunt and ignore her.
But I can’t ignore Tally. It’s impossible. I grip her cheek and smooth my thumb against her lips. “Only for you, Wildflower.”
She beamsat the nickname, and pride swells within me.
“Will you kiss me again?” she whispers.
I barely shake my head. Not because I don’t want to kiss her, but because I need something else. “What if I want you to kiss me?”
“It’s not going to stop at a kiss,” she warns.
“Better fucking not,” I growl.
Her eyes light up again and then she lifts her arms and tugs on my shirt, pulling me down so we’re nose to nose. “Better make it good, then.”