Page 93 of Hold the Line

Tilly giggled. “Well, I can think of one or two things that are better.”

Chris winked at his wife. “Hell yeah, and those are pretty much guaranteed to happen after a night out dancing.”

They were seriously the cutest couple. I loved how mismatched they seemed yet how actually perfect they were for one another. More than that, I loved how much they cared for Deacon.

“Agreed on all points,” Deacon said, pulling me into his side and kissing my temple. “As always, once I got my head out of my ass, I started having a good time.”

“It’s almost like those cowboys were paid actors with the sole job of getting you out on the dance floor,” I said.

His fingers dug into my hip. Not painfully, but hard enough to catch my attention. He didn’t like thinking about those guys talking to us—to me. That message was loud and clear.

“They’re lucky they backed off.” Chris grinned. “I swear, my man vaulted over a few people to get to you, Phoebe. I’ve never seen him move that fast.”

Deacon’s chin lowered. “Funny, I seem to remember you sprinting right next to me.”

Chris shrugged. “I’m a jealous beast; what can I say? Till can dance her little heart out with her girlfriends, but the day she said yes to being my girl, I became the only guy who’ll lead her around the dance floor.”

“It’s true.” Tilly put her head on Chris’s big shoulder. “I willingly married a caveman.”

I turned to Deacon. “I’m sorry to tell you, I can’t promise never to dance with other men.” His brow dropped in an instant, so I decided not to tease him for long. “I can’t pass up a dance with my father and, occasionally, one of my brothers.”

He exhaled, and after a beat, the corner of his mouth lifted. “I think I can handle that.”

Tilly reached across the table to swat my arm. “I hear your sister’s getting married. Tell me about it.”

“Oh boy.” Hannah wasn’t a bridezilla, but she wanted what she wanted, and it was driving our mother a little batty. “She and Remi don’t want to wait to get married. They’ve been engaged for three weeks and decided on a September wedding at the ranch.”

Tilly’s eyes widened. “Next September?”

“No, the one three months away,” I replied.

Deacon chuckled. “Elena’s making it happen, come hell or high water.”

Poor Deacon had been invited with me to my family’s house for brunch, which had turned into a surprise wedding planning meeting. He’d watched the whole thing, his expression shell-shocked when my mother brought out the giant wedding binder.

My father had patted him on the shoulder and said, “Just let it happen, son. All you have to do is show up in a suit when it’s your day.”

We moved on to other topics, laughing, drinking, then dancing the night away. Well…Deacon didn’t do much more drinking since he was driving, but he seemed to be having just as much fun as the rest of us.

When Tilly and I needed a bathroom break, he followed us, waiting in the hallway while Chris held the table. We didn’t really need an escort, but if it made him feel better, I wasn’t going to tell him not to do it.

Tilly and I did our business and met by the sinks. Catching my eye in the mirror, she smiled.

“Things work out how they’re supposed to, huh?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Sometimes you have to get past all the bad stuff in the beginning to make it to the good.”

We were still chatting as we stepped into the hallway. People milled around us, making it hard to see ahead. We pushed through, and it wasn’t until we were almost upon Deacon I realized he wasn’t alone.

The brunette looked vaguely familiar, but the shock of red hair on the man facing him made my stomach drop. Even with his back turned, Richie Slater was impossible to mistake.

Deacon saw me and, just like he had months ago, gave a subtle shake of his head. The message to stay away was clear. Unfortunately, Tilly hadn’t picked up on it. She strode forward, sidling up beside Deacon with an easy grin.

“Hey, Deke.” She gave his shoulder a playful punch. “Phoebe and I are itching for another swing around the dance floor before we take off.”

I hovered two feet away, watching it all go down. Richie turned to Tilly first. She went stiff as a board, finally realizing who Deacon had been talking to. Then he swiveled toward Deacon, his gaze flicking past his brother, landing on me. The moment recognition set in, a slow, bone-chilling grin stretched across Richie’s face.

“Phoebe Kelly,” he called. “Don’t be a stranger. Come over here, girl.”

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