“That’s more like it,” the vocalist says. The band starts into Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud,” and someone pulls the curtain on the front of the stage, shielding us from the stares of the crowd and leaving us in darkness.
I keep her close for a beat, trailing my knuckles up her side and down again.
She trembles before stepping back, fingers to her lips. Even in the near darkness behind the curtain, I can see the worry on her face, and I don’t like it. “I haven’t had enough to drink for this.”
Damn. I don’t know what I expected to see or what I expected her to say, but her words hit me in the gut. I do my best to cover with humor. “Come on, I can’t be that bad at kissing.”
Her laughter breaks the tension. This is Teagan. Of course she’s not going to make a big deal out of a kiss. “If only you were, Carter. If only you were.”
As Molly introduces the next bachelor, I take Teagan’s arm and lead her through the service hallway so we can return to the party. “Was that a compliment?”
“Maybe.” She sighs. “Or maybe it’s been too long for me, and I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”
We stop at the double doors that lead into the Jackson Brews banquet room. “Any other physical sensations I can help you remember?”
She smacks me in the stomach with the back of her hand. “You are shameless.”
I turn up my palms. “What? I’m just offering.”
“Real selfless of you, Carter Jackson,” she says, but she’s still smiling, so I call it a win.
“Let me get you a drink. The least I can do.” Taking her hand, I lead her back into the fray and to the bar, where my brother Jake is flipping bottles in his best Cocktail impression, to the delight of the small crowd gathered there. “What are you drinking tonight?”
“I think I need a martini.” Her grin is apologetic, the whole it’s not you, it’s me thing.
I push down my disappointment. I didn’t think my fake grand gesture would be the beginning of something for us, but I hate feeling like my arm is the last place she wants to spend her night. “Sure thing. You can go ahead to the table, and I’ll meet you there.”
“After seeing those women throw a fit about losing their chance with you, I don’t think you should get too far from me.” She tugs me closer and cuts her gaze to the cocktail table a few feet from us. Two women sip on pink cocktails and leer at me. They’re beautiful, but “barely legal” isn’t my thing.
“You’re going to be my bodyguard now?”
She surreptitiously glances their way again before nodding. “I could totally take them.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“And you’re my bodyguard too,” she says. “I don’t want to be alone when your family corners me for explanations.”
“They won’t. Not tonight, at least.” The fundraiser is too important to Jackson Brews and to Molly for my siblings or mother to risk bad press by exposing my very public lie. And anyway, they know how nuts it’s been this last month, so they might not be surprised that I couldn’t go through with the auction—even if they don’t fully understand why.
“I can hold my own for a few minutes.” I point to the sweetheart table at the front, reserved for me and my date. “Standing in those heels can’t be comfortable.”
“They’re completely wicked.” Teagan shrugs. “But who can resist a strappy, glittery heel?”
Who, indeed? I recognize this pair as her go-to for fancier dresses. They make her legs look amazing and have inspired more than a few fantasies I’d rather not admit. Fantasies I’ve typically pushed out of my mind, but that refuse to go now that I know what she tastes like . . . now that I can hardly think about anything but tasting her again.
“I’m a pro, Carter. I can stand in these all night long.”
“What else can you do in them?” I ask.
She jabs me with her elbow. “Don’t you wish you knew.”
I show my palms, all innocence. “I was asking about dancing.”
She snorts. “Sure you were.”
“That was quite a show,” Jake says as we step up to the bar, but he’s studying me as if he’s trying to figure out if maybe we do have a secret romance.
“He needed a big, strong woman to protect him,” Teagan says, winking at me.
I lean over the bar so only Jake can hear. “You have no idea how scary some of those ladies are.”
It’s true. For the past few weeks, I’ve even been avoiding Jackson Brews and the tourists who’ve been frequenting my family’s bar in search of me. About a week after the picture went viral, I took home a woman who turned out to be a reporter here for the scoop on “the hot firefighter.” After that, I couldn’t risk it.