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The voice came from behind me. I turned to find a man in a fox mask watching me with familiar dark eyes. The mask was burgundy and gold. It perfectly suited the face I knew was underneath.

But we were playing a game. I didn’t know the clever fox.

“Should I be?” I asked, tilting my head. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

He stepped closer. I caught the scent of his spicy cologne. The same one I’d fallen asleep breathing in just last night. My pulse quickened despite trying to play it cool.

“We haven’t,” he said, playing along. “But I’ve been watching you all evening. You’re the most beautiful woman in this room.”

“That’s quite a claim. There are a lot of beautiful women here.”

“None like you.” His eyes traced over my mask, my gown, lingering on the curve of my neck and then the cleavage perfectly accentuated in the corset. “You look like something out of a dream. A butterfly who just discovered she has wings.”

My breath caught. He always did that. Said things that cut right to the heart of me.

“And what about you?” I asked, quickly recovering. “A fox is notorious for causing trouble. Are you a troublemaker?”

“I am. The best kind of trouble.”

We stood there, the crowd swirling around us, caught in our own private bubble. I’d missed this. The flirtation. The spark. Even after a year together, he still made my heart race like we were meeting for the first time.

“Dance with me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t dance with strangers.”

“Then let’s become acquainted.” He offered his hand, palm up, waiting. “One dance. If you hate it, I’ll disappear into the crowd and never bother you again.”

I pretended to consider it. Drew out the moment. Made him wait.

Then I placed my hand in his.

The orchestra was playing something slow and romantic, perfect for the game we were playing. He pulled me close, one hand in the small of my back, the other holding mine against his chest. I could feel his heart beating beneath my palm.

“You’re good at this,” I said as we moved across the floor.

“I’ve had some practice.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only of one woman.” His thumb traced circles on my back, sending shivers down my spine. “She’s brilliant and beautiful and drives me absolutely crazy.”

“She sounds terrible.”

“She’s perfect.” He spun me out, then pulled me back in, closer than before. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for her. I just didn’t know it until I found her.”

My breath hitched. The game was slipping, the pretense falling away. I could see the real emotion in his eyes, even through the mask.

“Tell me about her,” I whispered.

“She’s stubborn. Passionate. She works too hard and forgets to eat lunch. She talks to her tomato plants like they can hear her.” He smiled, that devastating smile that had undone me from the very beginning. “She makes me want to be better. Not for her, but because of her. Because knowing someone like her exists in the world makes me want to deserve her.”

“Beau.” His name slipped out before I could stop it.

“There she is.” He pulled me closer still, our bodies pressed together as we swayed to the music. “My beautiful butterfly.”

I reached up and traced the edge of his fox mask. “I love you.”

“I love you too. More than I knew was possible.”