In the Ashby, as he’d danced with Charlotte, a new awareness dawned: the way she relied on and even welcomed his support, sought out his company, even the way the sweet blush slipping over her cheeks matched the hue of her lips. He hadn’t wanted a serious relationship in a long time, his heart too sore and broken to try. But Charlotte tempted him out of his self-imposed exile. He wanted to be with her. To be a hero for her.
“We don’t make such a bad team, do we?”
“Not at all.” Her response arose in breathless form. “Even if it’s not an expected team.”
But sometimes the best things came quite unexpectedly, didn’t they?
“And, despite your protests, you proved an excellent dancer.”
“I grew up doing that kind of dancing.” She gave her head a shake. “Notyourkind of dancing. And I amnothingcompared to you on the dance floor.” Her grin resurfaced. “From the way you were moving to those bluegrass Christmas songs, I’d say you’re closing in on becoming a proper hillbilly.”
“I feel certain a proper hillbilly would dance those jigs with much more assurance than me.”
“Just using the wordjigin a sentence is a step in the hillbilly direction.” She grinned over at him, stopping beside her truck. “Though I hope you don’t go full hillbilly,ever.”
“Afraid of the power I would wield on the dance floor?”
Her laugh bubbled out across the night air. “Well, thereisthat.” She chuckled, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away. “But it’s more about your”—she frowned and waved toward him—“gentle manliness that’s... nice.”
His brows rose.” My gentle manliness?”
That silver gaze flicked back to his, a shy tilt to those lovely lashes. Heavens, the look invited him forward.
“Um... well...” She shifted a step away, her back almost making contact with her truck. “It’s just that you don’t treat me like a coworker or tomboy.” Her brows drew together. “You treat me like... a lady.”
He studied her, the way the collar of her black coat caressed her smooth jaw, the way her hair swept in waves around her face, the way her shoulders pulsed with her quickening breaths. He slipped a step closer. “Youarea lady.” His words barely pushed through his throat. “A beautiful lady.”
Her gaze flashed to his. “You think I’m beautiful?”
How could she doubt? He turned to face her, drawing a pace nearer, desperate to convince her. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”
She swallowed, the faintest hitch in her breath teasing him closer, that quicksilver gaze dropping to his lips long enough for him to notice.
“Charlotte.” His palm came up to rest on the truck to one side of her shoulder. “You are one of the most genuinely beautiful women I’ve ever met, from the heart out.”
Her hand rested against his chest, fingers slipping beneath thelapel of his coat, encouraging him to breach the distance. His breath hitched as he halved the space between them, those pink lips promising him that kissing would be dangerous to his heart.
Wonderfully dangerous.
Her eyelids flickered closed, her breath warming his chin.
And, of course, a hero embraced the danger head-on—his grin tipped—or in this case, lips on.
“Whoa there, Prince. Are you... leaning?”
Arran jerked to a stop as Luke’s laugh took on extra volume.
“You didnotjust use a reference to a rom-com, did you?” came Ellie’s chuckled question. “Notmyhusband.”
“It’s one of the disgusting consequences of being around girls my whole life,” came Luke’s humored reply. “Don’t get used to it, Princess.”
Charlotte kept her attention fastened on Arran, almost as if she waited for him to decide on the next move. Those eyes wouldn’t release him from their hold.
“I still see leaning in progress,” came Luke’s voice, nearer.
Arran lowered his head, inches from her. “Should we give your impish cousin the satisfaction of ruining this moment, Miss Edgewood?”
Her breath caught, her attention dropping to his mouth and igniting all sorts of curiosities. With a slight twist to her lips, she raised her gaze back to his. “Not a chance.”
