Meg’s expression sours. “I don’t care, Russ.”
“That’s enough,” I say, intercepting his wrist with a firm grip. I step close but keep my voice low.
“You again, jeez,” he says to me. He’s drunk. I can smell it and his tongue is too slow for his mouth.
“Walk away and I’ll let you live.”
He scoffs like I’m kidding. “Hey, ow.” He wrenches his hands away and glares at me. “It’s only a matter of time before she stops putting out for you too.”
Fuck I want to break every one of his fingers. Slowly.
“And when she does, guess who’s gonna be waiting?” He stabs the center of his chest. “Me.”
Meg slides her hand into mine and gives me a gentle tug. “Let’s just go.”
Turning my back on Russet, I face Meg and caress both sides of her face. “You okay?”
Her troubled eyes still and she places her hands on my waist, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I am now.”
“Do you need to say goodbye to your dad?” I scan the dance floor. Lonnie and Darienne are talking with two other couples, oblivious to what just happened.
“I already did,” Meg says.
“All right.” I kiss her on the forehead, drinking in the way she leans into me with a soft sigh, then I take her hand and lead her toward the door.
“I overheard a little of that,” I say once we’re in the hallway. “You okay?”
Meg swings our hands. “I’m actually…a little worried about him. He’s never acted like this.”
“Desperate?”
“Is that what it is?” She shakes her head.
“After this party, you won’t see him unless you’re working, right?”
“Right.”
I lift the back of her hand to my lips. “Good.” Because I don’t like this one bit.
Cricket song and the grit crunching beneath our shoes fills the silence as we walk to my truck. Meg’s limping by the time we get there. I want to kiss her again, but not while she’s hurting. When I help her into the seat, that same spark fires between us when our hands touch.
I climb behind the wheel and drive to the exit. The cool night air fills the cab but it doesn’t squelch the intense heat glowing inside me. With the streets deserted at this late hour, I’m pulling into Meg’s driveway before I’ve figured out what to do about it.
When I come to her side, she turns toward me but instead of letting me help her down, she folds her fingers over mine. “Why don’t you hug people?”
I risk a glance at her face, but instead of the harsh glare I’m expecting, her expression is open, and kind. “I hug Greta.”
Her lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “You seemed okay being close to me tonight on the dance floor.”
How can I make her understand? “We were dancing.”
She’s still sitting sideways in the seat, facing me, the hem of her dress resting at her mid-thigh. I have the urge to caress my way up,rumpling the rest of that hem, her thick thighs warm and smooth beneath my palms.
“So you only like to be touched when it’s on your terms?” she asks.
That’s close enough. She hasn’t let go of my hand, so I caress over her delicate fingers with my thumb. “It’s not personal.”
“Is intimacy…” She rubs her lips together “…difficult for you?”
