Page 113 of Taking Denver

“Very mature.”

I sigh. “Can we not act like twelve-year-olds tonight?”

Sebastian scowls at his brother. “I canceled on a date to bring you, Archer, so don’t ruin my evening.”

I spot Denver. She’s on the dancefloor with Ranger, looking over her shoulder at me. Her silk, ivory gown dips to her lower back and hugs her curves, and when she turns, her cowl neckline scoops low enough to appear sultry but classy. She wears what looks like a diamond-encrusted choker, a matching clip slid through her red locks to hold back part of her hair.

She looks beyond beautiful.

And not mine.

Ranger says something to her and walks away, and she spins on her heel and makes her way over to us.

“You came!” Denver cries happily, clapping her hands, her smile sweetening when she spots Archer. “Are you here on official business, detective? Or can I get you drunk?”

Archer eyes her with disdain. “I’m not touching a thing you’re serving.”

Her eye twitches. “Then why don’t you get the fuck?—”

“Stop,” Sebastian whispers between them like they’re bickering teenagers. “We’re here for a nice evening.” He kisses Denver’s cheek. “Congratulations, Denver.”

She rolls her shoulders and crosses her arms. “Thank you.”

Ace and Zeke congratulate her, too, and I wait until my friends have disappeared before stepping forward.

“You look beautiful,” I say, dipping my hands into my pockets, my fingers folding around the plastic item I brought with me.

She smiles. “Thank you.” Glancing over her shoulder, she says. “Can we talk?”

I nod and follow her out onto a balcony. The floor-to-ceiling glass doors remain open as we step into the cool air, the noise of the party close enough to muffle our conversation.

Denver stands by the balcony wall, her hands resting on the stone as I take my place by her side.

“Did he arrive okay?” I ask quietly.

Denver nods. “He did. I spoke to him not long ago.”

“And he’s all right?”

Her smile is tight. “As well as he can be, I suppose. But at least he’s far away from here.” She glances into the room, where guests are dancing and music plays, a celebration for a wedding that I prayed would never take place.

“He rambled a lot on the drive to the airport,” I say. “Said you’d play a game together where you’d talk about make-believe futures.” I pause, swallowing the thickness in my throat. “What would ours be?”

Denver’s gray eyes shine in the dark, the lights and stars reflecting on tarnished silver as she smiles up at me. She takes a shaky breath. “Dog walks every day, but longer on Sundays. Movie nights, but I get to pick what we watch.”

I smile. “You do?”

“Of course,” she says and grins. “Double dates with Sebastian and whoever is lucky enough to have him. You bringing home another dog because you have too good a heart.” Her voice breaks, her lips tremble, and I want to kiss her. I want to save her, be with her, give her everything she just said, and more.

But even I know by now that she belongs with Ranger, and anything less than being a Luxe will never be enough.

I blink back tears and face her, the warmth of the party at my back. I then fish the item from my pocket and hold it out to her.

She laughs, her eyes still sparkling as she takes the guitar pick. Its yellow has faded over the years, the edges scratched, and “TRIFECTA” is scribbled across it in Sharpie.

“Something to remember us by.” I grin. “Ranger won’t know what it means, but you will.”

She twists the pick in her fingers. “Well, I’ll?—”

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