Page 2 of Chasing Home

Wade Steele would kick my ass three ways to Sunday if I walked around his ranch with my dick out, though. So it’s best I keep my clothes on while I’m working unless I’m itching for punishment.

Peakside is as busy as it’s ever been when I step inside. The music is loud, a handful of couples out on the makeshift dance floor two-stepping along with it. Some do a good job, while others look like they’ve never heard a steady country beat in their lives.

I suck back a laugh as I lock onto Poppy and Garrison. Poppy leads him through the simplest dance I’ve ever seen, and he manages to only stumble a few times. The stuffy, arrogant CEO who arrived in Cherry Peak two months ago now is a far cry from the guy I see today, holding his woman like he’s terrified of ever letting her go again. I won’t say I’m responsible for their relationship, but I’m not about to deny that I had something to do with it. Or rather, something to do with kicking his ass into gear when he needed it.

The next couple I find is Brody and Anna, the most well-known duo in this town due to Brody’s country music career. Goddamn, everywhere I look, happy couples greet me. It’s a kick to a romantic man’s gut. I feel the tip of the boot against my ribs, the impact nearly pushing the air from my lungs.

Avoiding the dance floor, I loop around the outside of it and then stall, my head going empty in a blink. Air whooshes through my ears before everything comes flooding back, creating a pulse in my brain that should hurt but doesn’t.

Her.

The woman sitting all alone at the table my friends and I always occupy is the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Long, dirty-blonde hair with golden streaks, full pink lips that naturally lift on the right side, and eyes that I want on me. Stormy ocean-blue ones. The colour of rough waves beneath the helm of a ship.

They’re dim, dull, despite the startling colour. Her long fingers tap on the edge of the table, over the scratched wood and years’ worth of stains that just won’t come off no matter how hard they’re scrubbed at. She watches the couples dancing but makes no move to get up and join them. I want to know why.

The moment she looks up, as if feeling the weight of my stare on her, I’m moving. Making a beeline in her direction, my long legs eat up the space between us. A few people turn to stare at me as I sidestep out of their way, not risking looking away from the woman to watch where I’m going. One blink and I fear she’d be gone. A figment of my imagination. A dream, maybe.

My heart is racing, thumping so damn hard against my ribs that I’m scared it’ll burst right through them. I don’t stop walking until I’m standing in front of the table, my breaths huffed as I stare down at her in awe.

Finally, our eyes lock, and just like that, I know I need to dance with her. Need just a single moment in her presence, with her in my arms, before the moment disappears.

“Hi,” I say, offering her a shaky hand. “Feel like dancing with me?”

She blinks slowly, digesting both my sudden presence and question. Her posture straightens, and I know I’ve come on too strong, but I don’t give a shit. Now isn’t the time for subtle.

“I don’t know how to dance,” she says, the rough rasp in her voice sounding far too natural. I feel the effect of it deep in my gut as it burns hot.

“I’m a damn good dancer, darlin’. I promise I won’t let you slip up.”

“Promises from a stranger don’t mean much to me.”

“So let’s not be strangers. I’ll tell you all about myself while we’re dancin’.”

I grin, wide and bright, knowing that both my dimples are on display and loving the way she can’t help but glance at them. Some of her steel softens, and I take advantage of the change.

I lean down and slip both of her hands into mine, using them to turn her in the booth until she faces me. She shakes her head but doesn’t pull away. Her soft hands stay tucked inside my loose hold.

“A woman like you deserves to dance.”

She lifts her brow, staring me down. “A woman like me?”

“A woman beautiful enough to make a grown man’s knees shake at the sight of you. To have him tripping over his feet just to get over to you before someone else swoops in.”

“Do you even know my name?” she asks.

“’Course I do, Aurora.” It rolls off my tongue far more seductively than I meant it to, but fuck does it ever sound good.

She’s Anna’s new employee. The new girl in town that two weeks ago stumbled in out of nowhere. Nobody knows a damn thing about her. But I want to.

I’m incredibly fucking curious about her now.

Her cheeks turn a soft pink, and those plump lips part on words that get lost in the music around us. I tug her up and out of the booth before sweeping her into my arms and leading us into a slow, easy sway between the tables.

She’s stiff, her eyes wide. I wait for her to shove me off. Instead, a beat later, her hand settles on my shoulder. I keep a hand on her round hip, ensuring my touch is respectful despite every inch of me screaming to explore the soft, curvy body so close to mine.

“You’ve drawn a crowd, Johnny,” she whispers, tipping her head back to stare up at me.

She’s tall, but the way she still has to crane her head to look at me right now has my pride tripling in size.

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