Page 7 of New Year's Faye

His hand slid around my waist, spinning me to face the makeshift dance floor where Felix was attempting to teach Radley some TikTok dance. "Dance with me instead of listing my crimes?"

"That's not a denial," I pointed out, but let him pull me closer as the music shifted to something slower.

"Never said it was." His other hand found mine, warm and calloused from guitar strings. "Just trying to distract you before you remember the Coffee Shop Crisis."

"The Coffee Shop—" I blanched. "Samuel Dogg, you promised we'd never speak of that again."

His grin was wicked. "Dance with me and I'll keep your secret about the barista and the whipped cream."

"You wouldn'tdare."

"Try me." But his eyes were soft, teasing.

This was our dance, our rhythm. Push and pull, tease and protect, always knowing exactly where the lines were.

Sure, there might be the seed of attraction there, I mean what person wouldn’t find a cute rock star attractive?

But I’d never let it take root. Sam mattered too much to me as both a friend and client.

But one dance couldn’t hurt.

I relaxed into his hold, letting him sway us gently. "Fine. But only because I'm protecting your reputation."

"Of course." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Nothing to do with how much you love dancing with me."

"You're not that special, Dogg."

"No?" He spun me out, then back into his chest with practiced ease. "Name one other person who knows exactly how you take your coffee after dealing with Justice's pranks."

"Extra hot, double shot?—"

"Triple shot," he corrected. "Extra hot, triple shot, with a splash of vanilla but only if it's before noon. After noon it's straight espresso because you say the vanilla makes you too soft for negotiations."

Warmth that had nothing to do with tequila spread through my chest. "Lucky guess."

"Just like I'm guessing you've got at least three contingency plans for Justice's inevitable attempt to recreate the New Year's ball drop using the chandelier?"

I bit my lip. "Four, actually."

His laugh vibrated through me and for just a moment I allowed myself to sink against him, resting my weight against his length.

How nice it would be to have something—or someone—like Sam in my?—

"Faye! Emergency!" Felix's voice shattered the moment. "Justice found the pyrotechnics control panel!"

I stepped back, professional mask sliding into place. "Duty calls."

Sam's hand lingered on my waist for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Go save the day, PR Queen. I'll make sure the fire extinguishers are ready."

"Our regular Tuesday night then?"

His smile softened. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

I hurried off to prevent Justice from recreating the Fourth of July indoors, trying to ignore how cold my skin felt where Sam's hands had been. Trying even harder to ignore how right it had felt to be in his arms.

Professional boundaries, I reminded myself firmly. I'd learned that lesson the hard way with Alex.

But as Sam's laugh echoed across the room, warm and familiar as a favourite song, I wondered if maybe some boundaries were meant to be crossed.

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