Page 84 of One Wild Chance

“Seems like a double standard.”

“Probably is,” she admits, then tips her chin up. “So, are you going to help me or not?”

She looks at me like she’s daring me to say yes, and I have never once in my life been able to walk away from a dare, especially from her.

“Guess that means I need to ask you properly.” I stop dancing, clear my throat, and take both of her hands in my own. “Miss Summer Daniels,” I drawl, attempting to sound like a gentleman. “Would you do me the honor of being my date for the rest of this evening?”

She bites back a smile. “That’s your attempt at asking me out?”

I shrug. “Best I’ve got on short notice.”

The question hangs between us as she looks at me shyly. “Then Miss Summer Daniels accepts your invitation,” she says, then smirks. “But don’t expect a kiss at the end of the night.”

The thought of kissing Summer makes heat rip through my body. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Wildflower.”

Even though I already am. That image feels like a red-hot brand that just rearranged my brain.

She gives me a relieved smile. “So what’s the plan? If we’re officially on the run, I need to know what happens next.”

“Well,” I say, scrambling to come up with anything coherent after she casually dumped the suggestion of kissing on me. “I say we keep dancing until the music is over or Callahan loses interest. Then we disappear into the crowd until you’re ready to go home. Not that I’m in a hurry to leave this,” I clarify.

Dancing with this woman is a pleasure. I could hold her all night.

“Only one thing you need to know.” I pause, taking in her wide, doe eyes. “While you’re with me, I treat you the way you actually deserve to be treated. Got that?”

She gives me a smile that says she’s not fighting me on this one. “Deal, cowboy.”

Chapter 24

Summer

The cover band finishes their song, then immediately segues into a George Strait ballad that draws the older couples to the dance floor. If we slipped away now, Jaxon could take me home and our little arrangement would be finished, neat and tidy, just like we agreed.

Any questionable feelings I have about Jaxon right now could be explained away tomorrow. I could blame the flutter of hummingbird wings under my rib cage on the tender twang of the steel guitar or the gentle lull of Francie’s voice on lead. Maybe even on the dazzling full moon, hanging like a glowing, lemon meringue pie.

I like being here with this man, the way his hands grasp my waist, stroke my spine, drag over my skin like fire.

“Summer, do you want to go one more round?” he asks, studying me. Francie is already singing George’s first line, soft as silk.

“Sure,” I say with a casual shrug. “We’re just getting started. And I don’t want Blaine to ask me again.”

I expect him to give me a hard time about Blaine. Instead, he just hooks one hand around my back and tugs me so close that it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

Who taught him how to hold a woman like this?

I shouldn’t even entertain that question. But now I’m thinking about all the women who might have taught him—dozens of female fans he’s met in cities when he played hockey—while my only companions have been horses. Hockey athletes aren’t exactly known for long-term commitment. But at least Sally has never let me down.

When I glance over my shoulder, I see Blaine turning to walk away. But that doesn’t dim my awareness of Jaxon’s hand still on my back, and the throbbing pulse under my skin. His thumb traces one slow, lazy circle over the fabric of my dress, and I feel like ice cream on a hot day, melting by the drop.

Back in high school, I always kept my distance, orbiting him like a moon but always avoiding anything that could be confused with interest.

When he returned to Lucky Chance and found out his mom had put me in the will, I was sure his resentment would push us further apart. But something has shifted in him recently. I can see it in his face when he looks at me. His gunmetal gaze is softer, and somewhere between our photo shoot in the barn and that charged moment when we were tangled together in the pond, I’ve stopped seeing him as the opponent. We’re allies, trying to save the same thing.

For some reason, I no longer care that we’re shackled together in a business deal that could ruin both of us. He makes me feel safer, like I could jump off a cliff and he’d be at the bottom, ready to catch me.

All the things I used to find infuriating about him—his ruthless competitiveness, his irritation with my superior knowledge of horses, the annoyed scowls every time I won—have all taken on a shiny, new gleam.

Is this what Larissa meant when she asked me if I’m going to hate-kiss him? The same things that used to drive me crazy are now traits I find irresistibly attractive?