Page 46 of The Renegade Billionaire
He opens the door, takes my hand, and helps me up into the cab, waiting patiently until I slide over the bench seat with my legs straddling the gearshift.
It’s the same as it was when I was a kid, except instead of Pops driving and Grams in the passenger side, it’s an enigma of a man and my pregnant best friend.
His door shuts with a crack in the night, and I jump. Pops waves as Braxton reaches over my thigh and shifts into reverse.
Our eyes catch for a flash of a moment when his forearm rests on my knee, and when I don’t pull away, he relaxes into the position and follows Elle’s directions to the only bar in town.
God help me and the rumor mill that’s about to tear up my life—again.
The scentof stale beer and French fries is oddly comforting when Savvy, Clover, Elle, and I enter the Firefly as we always do—arm in arm. But this time, it’s our shadow that has all the attention focused our way.
Braxton’s body heat warms me from behind, and because I barely reach his shoulders, I know everyone sees him standing guard over me.
“You ready for this, big guy?” Savvy taunts over her shoulder.
“You’ll soon find that very little rattles me anymore, Savvy.” His words hit the top of my head, and I swear his scent engulfs me.
“That so?”
“Savvy,” I hiss. “Leave him alone.”
My eyes close when I feel his warm lips at my ear. “You don’t have to protect me, sweetheart. I’ve got this.”
He steps back, and I blink wide. Dang it. What is it about this man that makes me lose all control of my body?
“Well, let’s see how you do tonight.” Savvy points to the bar along the back wall that faces the dance floor. “Why don’t you go take a seat and get us a round of Southern Mules?”
Braxton’s hand skims my lower back. “That good with you?” I swear he whispers the words to me, but that can’t be true—the music is already at full volume. I nod in answer, and he removes his hand. I almost fall back as though it were his touch holding me up.
I stand there for a long moment, watching his retreating back, and when I break whatever spell he has me under, I find my friends staring at me with impish grins.
Just then, the door behind them opens. My heart plummets when Harry enters, head down and avoiding eye contact as he makes his way to the corner.
If only he would use the shame he’s feeling now to make a change for the better instead of washing it away with copious amounts of alcohol, as I’m sure he’s about to do.
If he’d get sober, he could be so much better than he allows himself to be. The version of him I loved all those years ago, the boy who carried my backpack, the athlete who waited for me after practice to tell me I was doing great.
Somewhere along his path, he lost himself, but it’s no longer my job to fix him. He’s made his mess, and only he can fix it, so I do what I’ve trained myself to do over the last year—I turn my back on him.
“Let’s go, ladies.” Clover shimmies to a Cole Swindell song, completely oblivious to the internal war happening in my chest for a boy I once loved and the man I can no longer stand.
Savvy grabs my hand, which sets off a chain reaction as I grab ahold of Clover who grabs onto Elle, and we slide through the crowd to take up a spot in the center of the dance floor as all the patrons separate into four lines.
As soon as my boots hit the dance floor, my shoulders unwind and I get lost in the music—in the dances I’ve known for as long as I can remember.
With my arms swaying above me, my body falls in step with the music, and I let myself go. My worries get pushed out of my mind as I sway and twist and stomp and twirl.
At some point, I catch Braxton sandwiched between Clover and Elle at the bar. Elle sits in front of Cian, who has his giant arms wrapped around her middle, happiness swirling around them like a giant aura of love.
Braxton’s gaze follows my every move.
That knowledge turns a key deep in my chest that I thought I’d thrown away, and I move with a confidence I’ve been missing. It’s as if I’m dancing just for him, and something about that allows me to break free from the chains that have been holding me prisoner in my own life.
I trip over my feet, thankful when the woman next to me holds out an arm to keep me steady so I don’t fall on my face.
There’s something about Braxton Mitchell that opens me up, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
Dance, Madi, just dance.Deep thoughts on half a bottle of wine are never a good idea, so I dance.
