Chapter 8
Eight
Tate
“You wanna dance?”
I loved dancing. I was frequently one of the regulars out on the floor here when I came out with my girlfriends.
But in all these years, I’d rarely danced with Kellan.
When I had, it was always silly and fast, often part of a group.
But the ballad the band had started wasn’t fast. It was the sort of slow, sexy serenade that demanded you pull your date close enough to feel every muscle as you swayed.
I shouldn’t say yes. This wasn’t actually a date.
It would just add fuel to the gossip fires and make us the center of attention again.
But his hand was so warm around mine, and I found myself wanting to say yes.
Wanting to give into this urge to be closer to him.
Wanting the questionable privacy of the dance floor.
I curled my fingers around his, trying to ignore the electric tingle that shot up my arm at the contact.
He tugged me off my stool and led me to the empty space in front of the band, his grip gentle but sure.
As his arm slid around my waist, my heart stuttered, then picked up double-time.
The solid wall of his chest pressed against mine, and heat bloomed beneath my skin, spreading like wildfire from every point where our bodies touched.
When had he gotten so… magnetic? The familiar scent of his aftershave wrapped around me, and I struggled to remember why this had seemed like such a bad idea just moments ago.
He nudged me into motion, circling me to the music.
I focused on the buttons of his shirt, afraid to meet his eyes, terrified of what he might see.
His thumb traced circles on my lower back, each sweep sending shivers up my spine.
My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if it could anchor me against the tide of sensation threatening to sweep me away.
“You okay?” His breath tickled my ear, and I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the delicious shudder that followed.
“Fine.” The word came out far breathier than I’d meant. I shifted, trying to put an inch of space between us so I could think, but his arm tightened. Instinctively? On purpose? I didn’t know. Was one better than the other?
My pulse thumped in time with the bass beat as we swayed.
It was the only part of the music I could focus on in the face of this painful awareness of Kellan.
How his chest rose and fell with each breath.
The strength and breadth of his shoulders beneath my palm.
The brush of his thighs against mine. Every second that passed made me so achingly aware of him as a man instead of my friend.
I caught our reflection in the bar’s mirrored wall—his sandy head bent toward mine, bodies moving in perfect sync. We looked… right together. Like we fit.
Stop it. This is just proximity and pretense. Nothing more.
This confounding attraction would fade once we figured out how to untangle ourselves from the mess of this fake engagement.
Then everything would go back to normal—back to being just business partners and friends who shared takeout and laughed over stupid movies.
Back to the easy rhythm we’d had for years before this stupid lie changed everything.
The thought of it settled like lead in my stomach, and I couldn’t explain why the idea of returning to our comfortable friendship left me feeling so hollow inside.
The song ended, but Kellan held me several beats longer than necessary, waiting until the applause faded to release me. My skin tingled where his hands had been. Not sure what to do with that, I hurried back to our table, needing the distance to clear my head.
Perfect timing—our food arrived just as we sat down.
With my stomach tied in knots, the massive fried chicken sandwich I’d ordered suddenly looked like too much.
I picked at my fries, watching Kellan demolish his patty melt as if it had insulted his mama.
A year of military rations had clearly left him craving real food.
“You gonna eat that?” He pointed at my sandwich with his fork.
“Yes.” I grabbed it before he could, earning a grin that made my chest tight. “I saw how you inhaled a burger and two brats at the cookout yesterday. This is mine.”
“Hey, a man’s gotta make up for lost time.” He swiped one of my fries, anyway. “Damn. Nobody makes fries like Doc’s.”
I forced myself to focus on eating, hoping the food would settle my nerves.
The sooner we finished, the sooner we could escape the constant parade of well-wishers.
Kellan seemed to have the same idea. He practically inhaled his meal, and I picked up my pace to match.
Within minutes, we’d cleaned our plates, and he was signaling for the check.
“You in a hurry?” I asked.
“Just tired of sharing you with the whole town.” He winked, but something in his voice made my pulse jump. “Let’s go home.”
Home. Because he was going home with me.
Oh, not like that. But for half a second my brain went there. And damn it, now I was actually wondering what he looked like naked.
No, no, no. Stop.
I managed to get myself under control by the time we made it back to my truck. The drive home passed in comfortable silence. My mind kept drifting back to that dance, but I shoved those thoughts away. I had enough complications without adding more.
Cornbread bounded to the door as we walked in, his whole body wiggling with joy at seeing both of us. He’d been Kellan’s dog first, but this past year had cemented a bond between us. Now he bounced between us, unable to decide who deserved more attention.
“Outside, buddy?” Kellan opened the back door, and Cornbread streaked out to do a rapid patrol of the perimeter.
The autumn air carried a hint of winter as we stepped onto the back porch. The dog made his way to his favorite spot in the yard, while Kellan and I settled on the steps. Our shoulders brushed, and that same spark of awareness flickered through me.
“He’s gotten better about staying in the yard,” Kellan remarked.
“Yeah. Took some work, though. Remember how I told you about him chasing that rabbit through three yards?”
“You said you had to climb the Hendersons’ fence in your pajamas.”
“Not my finest moment.” I laughed at the memory. “Who knew he could leap over a four-foot fence if he wanted? But he hasn’t pulled that stunt again.”
Cornbread finished his business and bounded back, sprawling across our feet with a dramatic flop.
Kellan scratched behind his ears, and the dog’s tail thumped against the wooden steps like a cheerful metronome.
The tension from the dance melted away as told him more stories about Cornbread’s adventures.
Little, everyday stories that painted a picture of the normal I knew Kellan desperately needed in the wake of deployment.
I sure hadn’t given him much of that since he’d gotten off that bus.
The familiar comfort of sitting here with him, sharing stories about his dog, made me forget for a moment about all the complications.
The easy conversation and shared laughter shifted some piece of me that had been off-kilter for a year back into place.
I had other friends, but no one else shared this ready understanding without words.
No one else was quite on the same wavelength.
Content, I leaned back on my hands. “I missed this. Having you here to talk to at the end of the day.”
“Me too. Video calls aren’t the same.”
“No, they’re not.” I turned to look at him. The moonlight silvered his profile, accenting that strong jaw dusted with stubble. Noting a small clump of what was probably dog hair caught in the scruff, I reached for his cheek. “You’ve got a little—”
He turned toward me, and his eyes met mine, soft and warm in the darkness.
My heart did that weird, unfamiliar flutter again, and before I could think better of it, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss was gentle, nothing like the passionate ambush when he’d gotten off the bus.
Just the sweet brush of my mouth against his, an expression of. .. something I wasn’t ready to name.
Kellan sighed against my mouth, and reality crashed back in. What was I doing? There was no one here but us. No need to perform. No reason to kiss him at all except… except that I’d wanted to.
I jerked back and scrambled to my feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m headed to bed. Goodnight!”
I abandoned him on the porch with his very confused dog and fled inside. I didn’t stop until my bedroom door clicked shut behind me.
Only then did I press my burning face into my hands.
What the hell was wrong with me? This fake engagement was messing with my head. I needed to get it together before I ruined everything.