Page 151 of Your Place or Mine

“Oh, nothing.” I smiled sweetly. “Just thinking aboutThe Rusty Stag.”

His eyes narrowed. “Thinking... how?”

I turned the notebook so he could see my sketch. “Just brainstorming some minor changes. You know, now that I’ve fully settled into Reckless River and all.”

He squinted. “That says‘potential bar rebrand: The Antler & Ivy.’”

“Right.” I beamed. “Chic, don’t you think? We keep the rustic charm but add a little modern elegance. A nod to natureanda bit of whimsy. You know, I love glitter.”

He stared at me like I’d just suggested we put a trampoline on the roof. “Whimsy?”

I nodded solemnly. “Also, what do you think about replacing the dartboard with a selfie wall? Maybe hang a neon sign—‘Sip happens’or‘Pour decisions.’Very Instagrammable.”

He choked on his coffee.

I tapped the page again. “Oh, and don’t worry. We won’t get rid of the taxidermy fish. We’ll just bedazzle it.”

Callum lowered the mug and fixed me with a look that could peel paint off a wall. “You’re not serious.”

I tilted my head. “Aren’t I?”

He leaned one hand on the table and locked eyes with me. “You so much as touch that jukebox, and I will chain myself to it.”

I laughed, unable to hold it in any longer.

His jaw tightened. “You’re messing with me.”

“Imightbe.” I shrugged, pretending to consider it. “But then again, who can say? I am a woman of big ideas.”

He circled the table and dropped into the chair across from me, arms folded. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like it.”

His mouth twitched. “Maybe I do.”

We stared at each other, a long, heated second stretching between us. And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. My heart was pounding again—but not from teasing.

From the way he was looking at me.

From the way his walls weren’t just cracking. They were crumbling.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You really see a future here, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“With me?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed. “Yeah. I do.”

He was quiet for a moment, then reached out and ran his thumb along the back of my hand. “You scare the hell out of me.”

“Good,” I whispered, closing the distance.

“Why good?”

“Because that’s what it feels like when something matters.”

His hand slipped behind my neck, pulling me closer.

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