Chapter 28 #2
Jett grins before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to my temple. “For luck.”
Heat blooms where his mouth touches, and something in me loosens. I place my chips and the wheel spins. The ball clicks, clicks, clicks.
Four.
I laugh, loud and surprised, throwing my arms around his neck. “See?”
He laughs too, hands firm at my waist. “I’m never gambling without you again.”
We play a few rounds, trading small victories, stealing kisses that feel reckless and young…and exactly right. When we step away, my cheeks ache from smiling.
“You two make quite the couple.”
We stop at the voice, both of us turning on our heels.
“Principal Baldwin,” I greet with a warm smile.
He chuckles. “I’m retired now, Wren. I think you can call me Larry.”
“Larry Baldwin.” I chew on the words. “Nah, sounds weird.”
Another hearty laugh sounds from my former principal as Jett wraps an arm around me. It’s not possessive, but endearing, and I melt a little.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you both together again. I was always rooting for you two. I could tell from the first time Davis brought you over to play there was a special connection.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jett smiles down at me. The shadows I saw when I first arrived in Silo Bay are nowhere in sight. “Wren’s always been there for me.”
Whenever I’m in the presence of this man, I feel like all I do is blush.
“Good to hear, son.” Principal Baldwin glances around the room. “Speaking of sons, I don’t see mine anywhere.”
“Levi mentioned he was working tonight,” I supply.
He harrumphs at my answer. “The poor boy is going to work himself to death.”
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I appreciate that. Now, you two are here for fun, not talking up an old man.”
Jett shakes his head. “There’s always time for you, sir.”
“Nonsense,” Principal Baldwin says, before looking in my direction. “Wonderful job, Wren. The town has been missing your charm.”
“That’s kind of you. Turns out, I was missing Silo Bay’s charm, too.”
Jett and Principal Baldwin shake hands before he’s called in another direction.
“What’s going on with Davis?” I ask, my hand landing on Jett’s chest as I stare up at him. I notice his jaw tic as he mulls over his response.
“It’s his story…”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”
Jett’s throat bobs. “He fell in love and lost her. It’s tearing him up inside.”
“So, he’s working himself to the bone to forget her?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sounds familiar,” I mumble.
“But you’re back, baby.” His lips land on my forehead. I'm back, and he is too.
But I know what it’s like to lose the one you love. It’s an unimaginable pain. One that leaves you with this crippling ache no one can see but you. It’s the kind of feeling where you find yourself gasping for air at two o’clock in the morning, wondering what you did wrong.
“Where’d you go?” Jett’s words tickle the shell of my ear, pulling me from my thoughts, and my pulse thrums.
“Nowhere.” I offer a reassuring smile.
“Good.” He winks. “Let’s check out the silent auction table before I have my way with you on the dance floor.”
“Jett Riggsby, I didn’t think you liked to dance.”
“Only with you.”
At the silent auction table, I linger over a framed jersey with Crew Riggsby’s autograph in black marker.
It’s still weird to me that Jett’s younger brother is playing professional football.
The same boy who was Jett’s shadow when we were growing up, always wanting to do everything his brother did—good and bad.
Now, he’s married with a son, playing professional football. Isn’t it wild where life can take you?
I glance over at Jett, who’s looking intently at a cruise brochure.
“Didn’t take you for the cruise type,” I shout over the music. His head turns to me as he flashes me a devilish smirk.
“I’m not, but the idea of you in a tiny bikini, sipping cocktails for a week straight might change my mind.”
My mouth drops as I gape at him. Who's this flirty man, and what has he done with the grumpy Jett Riggsby I’m falling in love with again?
“Or I could bid on lawn care services.”
“You live on a farm with cows.”
He shrugs. “I’m not letting cows mow my yard, crazy.”
“I think the cruise sounds better.”
“You’re imagining me shirtless, aren’t you?”
“Now, I am,” I mumble.
“What was that?” he asks, but I see the knowing smirk on his face.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Turning back to the jersey, I sign my name and place a bid on the bid sheet.
“I can get you one for free.”
I shrug. “It’s for charity.”
“Whatever you say, Drummond.”
I walk closer toward him, squeezing his forearm. “I’m going to grab drinks. Want another beer?”
He nods, and I move across the room to the little bar in the corner.
I spot Saylor immediately. Her bright pink hair sets her apart from the crowd.
As I step closer, I notice Levi next to her.
Saylor’s leaning in a little too close with someone who’s supposed to be her brother’s best friend, and he’s not moving away.
She’s all bright eyes with a wicked smile, twirling her straw like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Like a creep, I observe the two for a moment while I wait in line.
“What’s it going to take for you to dance with me?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t dance.”
“C’mon,” she murmurs, leaning closer. “You deserve to have some fun, Levi.”
“I’m having fun.”
Saylor rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “More fun…with me.”
“You’re trouble, Little Riggsby.”
Her nose scrunches and mine does too. Little Riggsby is such a harsh way of reminding her who she is. But I see it. The way he watches her—amused, cautious, a little curious.
“I’m the best kind of trouble, Welles.”
Get him, Saylor.
He huffs a laugh, but doesn’t lean away. “You’re such a brat.”
“You have no idea,” she purrs, slipping the straw between her lips in an overly sexual manner. I avert my gaze because, wow, Saylor is trouble, and she knows exactly what she’s doing. I tuck away the interaction for later.
“What can I get you?” the volunteer bartender asks when it’s my turn to order.
“Two beers, please.”
The band strikes up another familiar song, sending ripples through the room. My body begins to move with the beat of the music as I reach for the freshly poured brews. It doesn’t take me long to find Jett near the edge of the dance floor. He hasn’t seen me yet, and I take a moment to drink him in.
His long, muscular legs look even stronger in his tailored dress pants.
Peaks and valleys stretch across his back, noticeable in his dress shirt.
The sharpness of his jaw through the freshly groomed beard he’s always worn.
But it’s his eyes that call to me. The piercing blue shines brighter in the stage light.
Happiness and relief pour off of him in waves.
Almost as if he’s left anything causing him pain and stress behind tonight.
As if he can sense me staring, his head turns as those eyes I was admiring lock onto me.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I hand him a drink as I take a long swig of mine, hoping the cold hops will cool me down.
“Let’s see those moves,” I say, obnoxiously shimmying my hips to the beat, and he throws his head back in a laugh.
Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me into the throngs of people.
We dance to songs we grew up with, lyrics etched into muscle memory.
We sing along, off-key and shameless. Our faces inches apart as we scream a version of “Sold” by John Michael Montgomery, our smiles beaming as we lose ourselves in time.
When the band pauses, the crowd claps as Jett places his fingers between his lips and lets out a loud whistle. Baker finds us in the crowd, tipping his drink to us as he smiles over everyone watching him live out his passion.
“We’ve got a special guest tonight," he calls into the microphone. “Greer Emerson, ladies and gentlemen.”
I turn, gaping at Jett. “Did you know she sings?”
He nods. “You’re in for a treat.”
Greer steps onto the stage, shoulders squared as confidence pours off of her.
The first notes of “Landslide” drift through the room, and my throat tightens.
Her voice is velvet and raspy, familiar and new all at once.
I lean into Jett, his arms folding around me as if he knows I need the connection.
“This is my funeral song,” I whisper, surprising myself at my admission.
He stiffens slightly. “Your what? What are you saying?”
“The song I want to be played at my funeral.”
He looks at me with worry.
“I’m fine, Jett. I’m talking in sixty years, when I’m good and ready. I want this song playing as people say their final goodbyes.”
“I-I…” he starts, jaw ticking. “It’s a great song.”
We fall back into silence as his thumb draws circles on my hip, the heat seeping through the material of my dress. A low thrum pulses with need as my skin isn’t the only thing heating with his touch.
When the song ends, the room erupts. Greer glows as she laughs through her waves to the crowd.
Baker throws his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a hug.
He whispers something in her ear that the microphone doesn’t pick up.
They separate as he strums another familiar chord on his guitar, and Greer bounces off the stage.
I reach for her arm as she tries to pass by. “You were incredible,” I shout over the music.
“Thanks,” she says, her eyes bouncing between Jett and I. “You two having fun?”
Jett dips his head as I offer her a wide smile. She squeezes my hand, as if she’s telling me how happy she is for us.
“I’m going to grab a drink. My throat needs it.”
The night rushes by after that. We dance along to more songs, share laughs, and I etch every moment into my memory.
With another long scrape of his hand over my hip, I glance up at Jett. Heat pools low, sharp and bright as desperation for his touch floods my veins.
“Take me home,” I demand.
He smiles slowly and knows. Gripping my hand, he doesn’t hesitate to pull me off the dance floor.