Page 49 of Forget Me Not

“Always,” he grumbles.

“Your fault for proposing.”

He pauses for a moment, following me line of sight. “You good, bud?”

“Fine,” I murmur, eyes still locked on Nova, who’s in the middle of a conversation with Mayor Copley. She looks so damned pretty tonight. Hair a tangled mess of curls from the long, hard day’s work. Shorts that make it damn near impossible to not look at her ass and a tank top that shows off her tanned shoulders.

She’s everything—sweet, smart, sexy. Beautiful and weird in her own way. And mine.

I shake myself, clutching the beer bottle in my hands. No. Not mine, I remind myself. She can never be mine.

Fuck me.

“You should ask her to dance,” Manto interjects into my thoughts and I grip the bottle in my hands tighter. He takes a step back at the look I shoot him. Good thing, too because I’m already on edge from the hoard of men that surround Nova.

“Look, Nova’s a tough cookie to crack. I’m just saying, I know she wants to. You just have to ask.”

“Manto, who is Jack?”

Silence fills the void between us and I almost think I’ve said some unforgivable curse when he doesn’t move. I’ve heard the name a few times, but every time, Nova shuts it down as quick as it starts.

Finally, he sucks down half his beer and shakes his head.

“That’s for her to tell you, mate.”

“Is she married?”

Manto just chuckles darkly. “All I’ll say is he ain’t coming back.”

If that’s not ominous, I don’t know what the fuck is.

“Go ask her to dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Well, don’t be pissed off, then.”

“Why?” I grit, taking a long swig of my beer. On second thought, it’s starting to taste like I need a shot of something stronger.

Manto nods to the other side of the room. “Because he does.”

Some punk kid, probably no more than twenty or so, takes her hand, leading her out onto the dance floor while she smiles brightly. He’s polite, keeping space between them as he starts to move her around with the other couples, but it’s still too fucking close.

Across the room, I spot Tara and Katelyn whispering and watching me. When I meet their gazes, they look away giggling like schoolgirls. Jesus Christ.

Loverboy coaches Nova through the dance, his cheeks burning red as I doubt he’s ever come this close to a real woman before, much less a girl like Nova.

When his hand slides a hair lower, just over the curve of her ass, I grip my bottle so hard I know it’s on the verge of breaking. Poor kid doesn’t even realize his life is in danger.

I’ll break his fucking fingers.

Without a word, I shove my beer into Manto’s hand, who just takes it with a snicker, and stomp across the room. I don’t ask her to dance. I take it. Practically shoving the kid out of the way, I replace his hand with mine on her hip and twine my fingers through her smaller, much more delicate ones. The kid thanks Miss Nova for the dance and struts off to find his friends to recount what will probably be the best thirty seconds of his life.

“That was mean,” Nova says quietly, though there’s a smile in her gaze I’m not used to seeing aimed at me. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

I pull her closer, leading her like a man leads and she follows me easily. I look down at her big multi-colored eyes and I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me.

“I don’t.”

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