Chapter 7
SEVEN
CORD
The tires crunched over gravel as I pulled into the lot behind Doc Holliday’s, headlights skimming over the faded hitching post out front and the string lights that always looked like they’d been hung by a drunk cowboy with a ladder phobia.
The old neon sign buzzed above the door, casting a warm red glow that made the wooden facade look almost inviting.
If you liked your bars with a side of saloon cosplay.
From the passenger seat, Lucy leaned forward, brow arching as she took it all in. “Wait. We’re going here?”
I threw her a sideways glance and smirked. “You said dancing. I deliver.”
She gave a little laugh, low and surprised, as I killed the engine. When I stepped out, she followed without hesitation. I grabbed her hand at the front of the truck, pleased when her fingers curled around mine.
“This place looks like Tombstone and Nashville had a love child,” she murmured.
“Never been before?”
She shook her head, and I wondered how it was she’d lived here a year and hadn’t hit up two of the biggest hang out spots in town. But I didn’t want to kill the mood, so I didn’t ask and dragged her inside instead.
That smile she’d been wearing all night kicked up a notch as she took in the swinging half doors.
The iron lantern-style sconces. The oversized poster of Val Kilmer as Doc himself framed on one wall like sacred art.
She looked at the place like it was a damn theme park.
Like she’d found something she didn’t even know she was missing.
That grin alone was worth the detour. And hell if it didn’t make me want to find more ways to earn another one just like it.
Inside was loud and warm and alive in that way Doc Holliday’s always managed—somewhere between dive bar and honky tonk, with just enough crushed peanut shells underfoot to make boots feel like the perfect footwear.
The band was already mid-song, the fiddler going hard and the lead singer belting something about heartbreak and whiskey over a steady two-step rhythm. The place was packed with locals, regulars, tourists who’d stumbled in and decided to stay.
I felt Lucy slow beside me, that hesitation tightening her shoulders. She scanned the crowd, taking it all in, her fingers twitching slightly in mine.
“Been a while?” I asked, leaning close so she could hear me over the music.
She gave a sheepish nod. “I don’t even remember the steps.”
“That’s all right.” I stopped near the edge of the dance floor and squeezed her hand. “Just follow me.”
She looked at our joined hands like they were a test she hadn’t studied for. Then, slowly, she stepped toward me.
I guided her in close—just enough to feel the heat of her body, the tension coiled in it—and started us into the rhythm. Nothing fancy. Just the basic two-step. One, two, quick-quick. Simple.
Her steps were hesitant, her movements tight. I let her settle. Gave her room to figure it out. We made a slow circle near the edge of the dance floor, and I kept my hand firm at her waist, steady enough that she didn’t have to overthink.
On the second pass, she stumbled, just a little, and immediately flushed, eyes darting up to mine.
“Sorry—”
“Hey.” I gave her the kind of smile I’d learned could calm a lot more than nerves. “You’re doing great.”
She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t pull back either, just kept following my lead.
The song shifted into something slower, easier. Less about fancy footwork, more about feel. A steel guitar eased into the lead, the bass rolling smooth beneath it, and I felt the change ripple through her.
Lucy’s shoulders dropped. Just a little. But enough to notice.
I adjusted my grip, gave her space to find her own way. She moved with more ease now, the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile too soon. A few beats later, she gave in and smiled, anyway.
Then she spun.
Not perfectly. Not with flair. But just enough to catch her own surprise—and mine. She landed back in my hands with a soft gasp and a laugh that punched straight through my ribs.
She laughed again, full this time, head tilting back slightly like she forgot to be self-conscious. Like it felt good to move.
I grinned, tightening my arm around her waist for a half-second before easing us back into the rhythm. “There she is.”
She shot me a look, mock offended. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “But this you just showed up.”
And hell if she wasn’t beautiful like this. Loose, warm, not tucked behind layers of nerves or second-guessing. Whatever she’d been holding back cracked open, and damn, it was a hell of a thing to see.
I wasn’t expecting this. I hadn’t expected her. But now I didn’t want the night to end.
One song rolled into another. Then another.
The band shifted gears, tempo dropping like a sigh.
The lights dimmed overhead, softening the gold of the room into something warmer, slower.
The chatter dipped around us as the opening chords of a slow country ballad rolled out across the floor.
One of those heartbreak songs you didn’t even need to know the words to. You just felt it in your chest.
I turned to Lucy and offered my hand again. “You still with me?”
Her blue eyes met mine, a little dazed, a little breathless. “Barely.” But she slid her hand into mine, anyway.
I pulled her in slow, giving her time to adjust—but not too much. One arm curved around her waist, the other holding her hand lightly in mine, and when she settled against me, it was… right.
Not forced. Not flashy. Just right.
We swayed into the rhythm, her body warm and solid against mine, the space between us full of unspoken things. Close enough to notice everything. Far enough to pretend none of it mattered.
But it did. God, it did.
I’d had hands on a lot of backs. Held a lot of women like this.
But this?
This wasn’t routine. This was gravity.
Every breath she took curved against mine. Every shift of her hips, every soft exhale, every accidental brush of her thigh, felt like it echoed through my whole damn body.
And I didn’t want to let go .
The song faded out on a last lingering note, but neither of us moved.
We just stood there, still wrapped up in each other, like the silence was part of the music too. The crowd had thinned, but I didn’t care. Didn’t even glance around to see who was watching.
I wasn’t thinking about the auction. Or rules. Or boundaries.
Just her.
I lifted my hand and brushed a lock of dark brown hair back from her face. Let my fingers linger longer than they should have. Her skin was warm under my touch, soft in a way that made my chest feel too tight.
She looked up at me, eyes darker now in the dim light, her breath catching just slightly.
Then she leaned in—just a little. Just enough to tilt the world on its axis.
“We should probably go,” she whispered.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved.
She stayed right there in my arms, like maybe she didn’t want the night to end either. Like maybe she was waiting for me to make a move I wasn’t entirely sure I should make.
I didn’t know what came next. But I knew I wanted to find out.
I drove her home in relative silence, something low and crooning on the radio.
The whole way, I wanted to take her hand across the console, but I held myself back.
I needed to get my head right about this woman.
Tonight had been about the auction. Or it was supposed to be.
But somehow it had gone well beyond that for me.
I thought she’d had a good time. Maybe she’d be willing to see me again. I was rehearsing what to say to ask her as walked her to the door of her neat little house. It was late. The kind of late where most of Huckleberry Creek had long since rolled up the sidewalks.
But I wasn’t ready for this night to be over.
Lucy unlocked the door and turned to me with a little smile, one hand resting on the doorknob. “Thank you. For tonight. For… all of it. I had a really incredible time.”
I watched the way her eyes lingered on mine. Like she wanted to say something else and wasn’t sure if she should.
Imagining what that might be had my heart picking up the pace, so I nudged, soft and easy. “What?”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip for just a second.
“I just… I know this was an auction date, not a real date. I didn’t even really choose you, my grandma did, and maybe this is totally out of line, but…
” She looked up at me, lashes low and voice soft enough to get lost in the quiet between us. “Could I kiss you?”
I didn’t move at first. Didn’t even blink.
Because something in the way she asked—uncertain but brave, like this wasn’t a thing she did lightly—hit me harder than I expected.
I reached up, brushing a loose piece of hair back from her face. Let my fingers linger, trailing the edge of her jaw like it might anchor us both. “As it stopped being an auction date quite a few hours ago, I hope you will.”
Lucy stared at me for a beat. Like she was still giving herself permission. Then she leaned in.
That first touch was featherlight. Barely there. Her lips brushed mine with the kind of hesitance that felt like inexperience, not disinterest. Like she was testing the water with both feet planted on the dock.
So I kissed her back, just enough to meet her halfway. Gentle. Sure. Inviting.
That was all it took.
Her hands curled into the front of my shirt, and I felt the moment she let go. Of the nerves. The doubt. The walls. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, her body pressing into mine like she suddenly couldn’t get close enough.
It wasn’t hesitant anymore. It was hungry.
Hot and sweet and a little clumsy in a way that made my pulse spike, because it wasn’t practiced—it was real. Earnest. A woman who’d clearly forgotten what it meant to be wanted and was just now remembering how damn good it could feel.
And God, I wanted to be the one to remind her.
I wrapped one arm around her waist, the other sliding up her back. Anchoring her. Holding her like she deserved. Her mouth opened under mine, her breath stuttered, and then it was just heat and motion and that low sound in her throat that made my blood roar.
She kissed like she had something to prove.
And I kissed her like I never wanted to stop. Because damn, I didn’t.
I devoured her mouth, drinking in every sweet little whimper and moan that said she liked what we were doing and was a hundred percent here for more. A man could get drunk on those sounds. On her.
By the time we pulled back, we were both breathing harder than we should’ve been, standing fully clothed on her front step. Her cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide.
She didn’t let go.
“Would you…” Her voice was husky now, tentative again, but this time for a different reason. “Would you come inside?”
I hesitated—not because I didn’t want to. Because I did. Badly. And I didn’t want her thinking this was a debt to repay. Some obligation wrapped in a kiss.
But before I could say anything, she took a half step back, misreading my pause. “I’m sorry. That was presumptuous. You’ve already gone above and beyond?— ”
“Hey.” I caught her hand gently. “No. Don’t walk that back.”
I stepped in close again. Let her see it on my face, in the way I was still out of breath from her. “I want to. If you’re sure.”
Her gaze searched mine. Then something in her softened.
She reached behind her and turned the knob, pushing the door open. The porch light cast a warm halo around her as she backed inside, towing me with her.