28. Ryewood #2
Rosie shifts closer to Gemma, touching her arm gently. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gemma tries for lightness, but it doesn’t land.
Rosie cups Gemma’s hands in hers. I can feel the conversation shifting into something private, and she deserves the space to fall apart if she needs to. I push back from the table.
“I’ll get us another round.”
At the bar, I take my time, giving them space.
A prickle runs down the back of my neck, the kind that comes from being watched. I turn, scanning the far end of the bar, but whoever it was is already gone. The feeling clings, and I try to tell myself it means nothing.
When I return with three fresh steins, Finn is back at our table, leaning over Rosie and Gemma.
“Come on. One dance. The music is good and the night is young—”
Rosie looks eager to take him up on it, but doesn’t want to leave Gemma, who clearly doesn’t want to dance.
“Rosie, go.” I nod toward Finn. “Someone needs to keep Finn from embarrassing himself out there.”
Rosie hesitates, glancing at Gemma.
“Go,” Gemma says, mustering a small smile.
Rosie squeezes her hand, then lets Finn pull her toward the dance floor.
I slide into the seat beside Gemma.
Gemma watches them go, something wistful in her expression, before her eyes drift to the dance floor, to Grier.
He’s dancing with the brunette now, holding her the way he holds everything, with quiet, steady certainty.
No flourishes, no showing off, just the confidence of a man who doesn’t need to prove anything because he already knows his worth.
Gemma takes a long drink.
“He looks happy,” she says, and it sounds like it costs her.
“Does he?”
“Happier than he’s been in weeks.” She takes another drink.
I watch her watching him and see the conflict written across her face.
“Gemma.” I turn to face her fully. “You can still choose him.”
She goes still.
“He loves you.” The words taste like ash, but I keep going. “And if that’s what you want—if he’s what you want—I won’t stand in your way.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
“What I want, I can’t have.”
My breath catches.
“And I can’t choose him just because I can have him.” She stares at her ale. “Even if that means I’ll have nothing.”
I stare at her. The weight of what she’s saying, what she’s not saying, presses against my ribs.
My hand cups her cheek lightly, and I tilt her face toward mine. “You won’t have nothing,” I say quietly. “You’ll have me. For as long as you’ll let me stay.”
The words leave me, and I ache with how much I want them to be enough. But I’m not just a man who wants her. I’m a liability dressed up as a promise, and she deserves better than what loving me will cost her.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something broken in them, not fresh but old, like she’s been carrying this long before this moment.
“You staying isn’t the problem, Rye.”
Her words land like a fist to my chest. I search her face for answers, but all I find is a sadness so deep it steals my breath, and something that looks a lot like goodbye.
She looks away and swallows hard. When she speaks again, her voice is almost shy. “Dance with me?”
It catches me completely off guard. She glances up at me, uncertainty flickering in those impossible eyes like she’s bracing for rejection.
“I thought you’d never ask, little fox.”
I pull her up before she can change her mind, my hands finding her waist to steady her. Something fierce and protective roars to life in my chest. I keep her hand in mine and lead her to the dance floor.
When we reach the floor, I turn her into me. I wrap one arm around her waist, drawing her close until there’s no space left between us. Her hand finds my shoulder. I press our joined hands to my chest.
The music is slow and perfect. I lead, letting my hand slide up her back, cradling her against me. She tucks her head beneath my chin, and I feel her let out a deep breath. I press my lips to her hair, lingering there, because letting go feels impossible right now.
We sway like that long enough for the rest of the room to fade. Everything outside of her stops existing. I’d stay here forever if she’d let me.
Then the music shifts. The fiddler picks up the tempo, the drummer kicks in, and suddenly the song is too bright and fast to ignore. I pull back just enough to see her face.
“Ready?”
Before she can answer, I spin her out, then pull her back in. She stumbles, catches herself against my chest, and then she laughs, bright and startled, and the sound is so fucking beautiful I nearly trip over my own feet.
“Warn me next time,” she says, grinning.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I spin her again, and this time, she’s ready, moving with me, that smile lighting up her face.
“You know,” I say, pulling her close, “you’re devastating when you smile.”
“Ryewood—”
“Truly. It’s a problem. I can’t think straight.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile widens. “You never think straight.”
“Only around you.” I dip her without warning, catching her gasp before pulling her back up. “See? Devastating.”
“You’re one to talk.” She says it before she can stop herself, then drops her gaze like she’s embarrassed, and, stones, she has no idea what that does to me.
“Do I affect you, little fox?” I’m teasing her, and I know it, but I’d say just about anything to keep that blush on her face.
She meets my eyes, something shifting in her expression. “Maybe. But I’d wager I affect you more.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Every part of me is hoping she proves it.
She leans closer. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“And how’s that?”
“Like you’re trying very hard to behave.”
“You have no idea.”
She’s looking at me like she wants to test that. Like she’s wondering what would happen if she pushed just a little harder. If she knew how long I’ve been holding back, she’d know exactly how dangerous that look is. She has no fucking clue what’s waiting on the other side of my restraint.
“If you’re thinking about testing that theory…” I lean in, lips brushing her ear. “I should warn you, I play to win.”
It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told. I’d let this woman bring me to ruin right here on this dance floor.
Something dangerous sparks in her eyes. She’s about to push back; I can see it—
“Last call!” echoes through the bar.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, lingering long enough to make my pulse jump. When her eyes meet mine again, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them.
And then Finn is there, slinging an arm around both of us. “All right, you two, let’s go. Some of us need our beauty sleep.”
The spell breaks, and Gemma pulls back. But I’m not ready to let this go. I tug her close and let my lips graze the shell of her ear. “This isn’t over. When we finish this, I promise you—you won’t be able to think straight.”
Her breath hitches, and her fingers tighten on my arm. And fuck, the look she gives me in return is going to keep me up all night.