Page 65 of The Sweetest Risk

My mouth drops open and I look at my mother’s eyes, which are wide with astonishment that Tristan is talking to her and my father like this. No filter. No regard for their feelings. In complete defense of me. Bob and Karen shift uncomfortably at this unorthodox confrontation of my parents.

He continues, “Her ambition is just as high as Bradley’s. Success looks different for everyone and you have two different children. I’m sorry, but I think you all are insane if you think that Brooke isn’t successful because she is, and you should be proud that she is your daughter.”

My pulse is in my ears now and my heart is beating hard against my chest. At this rate, I am half-expecting him to profess that we are sleeping together and they can’t do anything about it.

“Again, I apologize for the language. I have been around this family for a while and I just had to say something.”

My parents look shocked. All these years, Tristan has never given his opinion on anything family-related before–especially with regard to me.

Before my parents can respond, Bradley’s voice cuts in on the microphone, “Okay, well, I think it’s time that my parents come out to the dance floor and dance to their wedding song. They have also requested anyone who wants to share this moment with them to join them.”

My dad takes my mother’s hand and he practically drags her away. Bob and Karen follow suit and I am left standing next to a man who is supposed to still appear to be my enemy.

Tristan takes the mimosa from my hand and sets it on a nearby table. Without hesitation he grabs my hand, almost like we have been doing it for years. He starts pulling me toward where my parents, Brad and Jen, and other guests are dancing. “Come dance with me.”

My feet are glued to the ground as I shake my head. “What if people suspect something?” I look around to make sure that no one is deciphering what is actually going on between Tristan and me.

He steps toward me, still holding my hand, and places his other hand on my lower back. He pushes me forward and whispers, “We can’t control what people think, Brooke. Besides, everyone else is going to be preoccupied with their own dates or their own problems or thoughts, they won’t even pay attention to us. C’mon, Cupcake.”

We are finally on the outskirts of the dance floor. The sun is starting to set and my parent’s solar lights kick on around the backyard. The lanterns on the tables are becoming more illuminated with each passing second. Tristan twirls me around and pulls me in to where our bodies are almost touching. Hesmells amazing as always and there is a gravitational pull he has on me, where I want to get closer and closer every time I am near him. A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with Tristan Lawson. Now, with the way he makes me feel, I want to dance with him forever.

I see Bradley and Jen out of the corner of my eye. “What about Bradley?” I finally look up at Tristan. He is already looking directly at me and has a lovestruck look on his face again. I wonder if I have that face too.

His hand that was initially properly placed in the middle of my back trails down to where he is practically touching my butt. I reach for his wrist and pull his hand back up, shaking my head. “Behave,” I mouth.

He begins to laugh and says, “I’ll deal with Bradley. I’ll just tell him that I felt bad for his little sister standing there all alone.”

“Gee, thanks.” I roll my eyes.

“What do you want me to tell him, the truth about us?”

I lock eyes with him and stare him down with my signature “don’t you dare” look.

“That’s what I thought,” he says smugly. His hand makes its way down my back, sending shivers up my spine. My body is craving this man more than I ever thought possible. “Just dance with me, Brooke. Stop worrying and just be here with me.”

I sigh. “I can’t. My brain doesn’t operate like that, Hot Shot. I am a perpetually anxious person. I am basically the inspiration for Pixar as they were developing the character of Anxiety inInside Out 2.”

Tristan snorts and pulls me closer. Now our bodies are fully glued to each other. I can’t shake the feeling that Bradley is giving us the death stare or people are looking over at us funny. But when my eyes dart around the dance floor, I hate to admit that Tristan was right. Everyone is in their own little world.

“Be in our world with me, Brooke. Let’s test the waters a little bit.” He starts to play with my hair swaying along the middle of my back. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”

Test the waters. “Just kiss me?” I bite my bottom lip, knowing that will drive Tristan crazy.

He raises an eyebrow. “Brooke Elizabeth Beckett. We are at your parents’ anniversary party.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to do more than kiss me?” I raise my own eyebrow to contest the one he just gave me.

Then Tristan does something that makes my heart flip and my knees buckle. He brings my hand he is clasping with his and holds it against his chest. I can feel his heart beating almost as fast as mine. It’s such a small, intimate gesture, but it’s melting me. I am a puddle and I don’t know how to piece myself together after this. Tristan has shattered every image I have conjured up in my head of him. He says softly, “You know I do, Brooke. And as much as I love how naughty my girl is right now, I am not ready to share what we have yet with anyone. I want to keep you all to myself for a little longer.”

The song is near its end and I step away from him. Because the truth is, even taking Bradley and my parents out of the equation, I want to keep him for myself too for a little bit longer. I joke to stop the tears of pure bliss from escaping me, “I guess that might be best, since my parents already want to knock you out for standing up to them. And using the words ‘ass’ and ‘fucking’ in front of their neighbors.”

Tristan laughs.

The song ends and I remember my mom wanted the desserts to come out after their second “first dance.” I nod back toward the house. “I need to get the desserts set up. Thanks for the dance and for saying what you said to my parents.”

My hand parts from his, but not without a little restraint on his end. “I’ll always stand up for you, Brooke. People should recognize how special you are.” His hand finally lets me go and finds its way into his pants pocket. “Like I said, you are fucking rare.”

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