Page 29 of Whiskey & Wreckage

She giggles, a sweet little sound that hits me right in the chest. “Flatteryandchoreography? You’re pulling out all the stops today.”

“You leave the house looking like that, I have no other choice.”

Her cheeks flush, but she rolls her eyes like it’s no big deal. Like she doesn’t know what kind of power she’s wielding right now.

I don’t even think,I just lean in and press a quick kiss to her lips. Soft. Familiar. Dangerous. She tastes like watermelon lip balm and maybe trouble.

I pull back before I can forget where we are.

She blinks up at me, smiling. “That was nice.”

“I was about to make itnotnice,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. “But I’ve got ribs on the grill and a dog waiting to tackle you.”

She laughs again, and I open the truck door for her to get in.

She gives me this small smile, like I’ve done something special. I haven’t. Not really. But it still hits like a punch to the chest.

As we pull out of her lot, she laughs to herself. Just a little huff of breath, barely there.

I glance over. “What’s funny?”

She smirks. “Nothing. Just… last time I was in your truck, I was whiskey drunk and emotionally spiraling.”

I chuckle. “You threatened a bartender.”

“I talked to a bartender,” she corrects.

“You were very passionate about your peanuts.”

She grins, and God help me, I could watch that smile all day.

The drive to my place doesn’t take long, but I take the long way anyway. No reason. Just want more time with her.

When we pull into the drive and I kill the engine, I glance over. “You ready?”

“For a backyard full of your coworkers? And probably way too much meat? Born ready.”

I lead her inside. The house is clean, comfortable, dark floors, leather furniture, a little too tidy if I’m being honest, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Then comes the best part.

“Bear!” I call, and it’s like unleashing a furry missile.

My dog charges around the corner, all 140 pounds of exuberance, and slams right into her like he’s found his long-lost soulmate.

Poppy stumbles back a step, laughing as Bear starts licking her face like it’s his personal mission. “Oh my God,” she gasps, dropping to her knees. “You didn’t tell me he was perfect.”

“I didn’t want you to like him more than me.”

She shoots me a grin over Bear’s head. “Too late.”

I stand there, just… watching her. On the floor. In my house. Laughing with my dog like she’s been doing it forever.

And I swear, for a second,I forget how to breathe. I try not to hover, but it’s hard when she’s this close. In my space. Smiling like she belongs here.

When we finally head out to the backyard, a few of my people are already there,Nash’s loud ass leading the pack, of course. Music’s playing low. The cooler’s full. There’s enough food to feed a battalion, and I’m manning the grill like it’s a mission I trained for.

She watches me flip ribs like it’s something sexy. Maybe it is,I don’t know. All I know is, her eyes keep coming back to me.

---