Page 21 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

Like she belonged here. With me.

Before I know it, Carol’s voice cuts through the thinning crowd: “Last drinks, folks! Get 'em while you can!”

Eden catches my eye across the room as she collects empty glasses. Her cheeks flush and she quickly looks away.

The same electricity from earlier crackles between us, stronger now in the quieting bar. My body hums with awareness of her, every protective instinct firing as the night draws to a close.

Soon the place will clear out. Soon it'll just be us, alone with all these unspoken things building between us.

And this time, I won't let her run.

Chapter 6

Jack

Istack the last clean glass, my eyes following Eden as she moves behind my bar. She fits here, like she's always belonged.

John shepherds the last few drunks out, locks up, and shoots me a look before heading off.

The bar's quiet now, just the hum of the coolers. But the air between Eden and me? It's anything but calm.

Since the fight ended, she's been dodging my eyes, keeping busy with cleanup.

She's damn good at it too, just like she was serving drinks. But she can't hide how her body reacts when I get close. The slight hitch in her breath, the pink creeping up her cheeks - it's all there if you know what to look for.

And I do.

Every time she steps away, I feel a pull to follow. That word - mine - thrums through me again, matching the beat of my heart.

“First shift done,” I say, grabbing two glasses and filling them with soda. “You should eat something.”

I head to the bar's small kitchen and return with a plate of warm pretzels - my grandmother's recipe that's saved many a bartender on long nights.

Eden raises an eyebrow but takes a pretzel. “What's next, milk and cookies?”

“If that's what you need,” I reply, my tone more serious than I intended, loaded with everything left unsaid. Her eyes flick to mine, catching the weight behind my words.

“Thank you,” I add, watching as she efficiently wipes down the bar, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “For helping tonight.”

She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “It was... fun, actually. Reminded me of simpler times.”

“Before the fancy design career and big-city life?” I probe, curious about the life she's built away from here.

“Before everything got so complicated,” Eden says, finally meeting my eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, you know? Moving away, chasing success...”

There's something raw in her expression that hits me right in the gut, makes me want to shield her from whatever's causing that pain.

“Are you happy?” I ask, keeping my voice low. My hands itch to reach for her, but I hold back.

“I'm...” She pauses, struggling. “I'm successful.”

“That's not what I asked.” The words come out gentler than I feel. Everything in me is screaming to fix this, to make it right for her.

Eden puts down her cleaning rag, tension visible in her shoulders. “What do you want me to say, Jack? That I spend most nights alone in my apartment, designing clothes I don't even like anymore?”

I can't help moving closer, drawn in by the hurt in her voice. “Eden...”

“Don't.” She holds up a hand, but doesn't back away. “Don't look at me like that.”

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