Page 24 of Restored By You

“Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get this man to be a person on a Saturday?” Levi says to me, delighted as he jerks a thumb at his brother making his way back with our drinks. “Months. I’ve tried everything. He used to come out with us, then he went all Old Man River on us.” He chuckles.

Rhett rolls his eyes, handing me a fresh mojito. I give him a quiet thanks as fresh, non-work-related conversation picks up all around me. Laughter and stories are thrown around the table, along with more fried pickles that have Tyler returning to the table with interest.

Small-town charm, indeed.

The band picks up into something with a fiddle behind it now, quicker, warmer, and a couple near the stage push their table back to make even more room for the dance floor. And the whole tavern seems to lean into the night all at once.

Cassidy is up instantly, hauling Butch to his feet by both hands. He goes, reluctantly and with a smirk. Levi snatches the nearest woman by the waist and spins her around and around on the dance floor to the point my eyes widen in shock at his skill—and silently hoping he knows that poor woman he just plucked out of a crowd.

Suddenly, Rhett stands, turning to me with an outstretched hand. “Come on, city girl.”

I blink up at him. “Oh, I don’t, um, dance.”

A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, sweetheart, I have a feeling you do.”

Now what am I supposed to do with that?

Caught in a weak lie, I try not to overthink it and put my hand in his.

His fingers close around mine and he draws me out to where the others are, and the first thing I learn is that Rhett Montgomery…can’t really dance—and doesn’t seem to care even a little bit. He spins me under his arm with more enthusiasm than skill, and I laugh, hard. Cassidy whoops. Levi has commandeered yet another woman and is doing some swinging move I’ve only seen on Dancing with the Stars.

Tyler lifts the camera I’d forgotten I told him to bring from the table and starts filming. A small part of me wants to tell him not to, but I know I’ll thank him later, because this—this is exactly the kind of real, unfiltered warmth I want the show to be about.

The song ends too soon and the band slides straight down into something slow. The floor thins as couples find each other. Butch pulls Cassidy in close and she rests her cheek on his chest like she’s done it a thousand times, and around us the whole room softens into a swaying hush.

I should step back, but I don’t move.

And neither does Rhett.

He looks at me for one long, unhurried beat—asking, in his own way. And when I don’t make any moves to leave the dance floor, he steps in close.

One of his warm, large hands finds my waist, while the other closes over mine and folds it against his chest. His heartbeat thumps under my knuckles, steady where mine has gone wild. We start to move. Slow. Barely.

And he looks at me, stable and sure. The guitar player slides into something softer, but the room still feels too loud. My ears are ringing and Rhett’s heated form is pulling me in, dragging me deeper into this illusion of reality that’s sending my head spinning.

This. This is what Callie found here.

This warm, loud, tangled belonging I have somehow only ever watched from the outside.

Where is a girl’s best friend when she needs her?! Callie would be able to read whatever is happening right now better than anyone.

“Rhett,” I say, not knowing what I want to say next.

His breath ghosts over my ear, my neck. I shiver as his fingers flex over my hips. “Yeah?”

“This isn’t a consult anymore, is it?”

He doesn’t flinch. “No. It’s not.”

My heart slams once against my ribs, hard enough that I feel it in my throat. It’s been barely a day. How can I feel such a pull to this man? “I’m leaving,” I hear myself say. “In a few months, when the house is done, I have to go home.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’d rather have a few months with you, than spend them pretending I don’t want them.”

Oh. Oh.