Page 128 of Dream Chaser
And yeah, I feel that all the way in my ribs.
She looks radiant—hair half-braided, jeans that cling to every inch of those legs I’ve memorized, boots with a bit of heel she probably thrifted, but walks in like they were made for her. And her voice? Smoky. Effortless. My whole chest goes hot.
Around me, people are swaying, laughing, clapping along, but all I can think is,Goddamn, I’m gonna marry this woman.Even if she’d kill me for thinking it right now.
Someone leans over and elbows me—Hart, grinning like a jackass. “Fanboying hard, huh?”
I don’t take my eyes off Iz. “You got no idea.”
He chuckles. “Gonna call bullshit. Mine’s already got a ring on and a baby on board.”
Boone swings his chair around and props one boot on the rung of mine, beer in hand, already smirking. “Please. My girl wrangles a preschool class, bakes the sweetest treats, loves my flower like she’s hers, and is besties with my ex to make things easier, and because she genuinely likes her. I win.”
Grimes leans back and crosses his arms, slow-like, like he’s waiting for all of us to shut the hell up. “You clowns are adorable. But Lo? She’s the kind of girl who would fight a man for your honor.” He shakes his head. “Even when I didn’t want her to.”
Hart raises his water bottle in mock toast. “Honestly, I don’t know how any of us ended up this lucky.”
Grimes tilts his head toward me. “Well, except Skinner. He’s still got time to fuck it up.”
I give him a slow smile, eyes still glued on the hot harmonicist. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Boone shrugs. “It’s true. That girl?” He nods toward the stage, where Iz is currently doing some bluesy riff on the harmonica. “Like her cousins, you lock down and pray they never realize they can do better.”
“Iz already knows,” I murmur, watching her laugh mid-song. “We’ll have to fight about it a while. She likes that shit.”
Hart claps me on the back. “Then you better fight harder. You’re gonna need backup, man. That one? She’s gonna own your ass.”
“I know,” I say, not even pretending to deny it.
CJ sets down his plate, eyes already dancing with mischief. “So … we talking about Skinner playing house yet, or are we saving that for halftime tomorrow?”
Remington practically chokes on his root beer. “We walked in that morning, and Iz looked like she’d gone twelve rounds with a thunderstorm.”
I smirk, shaking my head.
“Don’t get too comfortable; everyone who knows Izzy knows that won’t keep her down. You better up your game, Skinner.”
A lesser man would respond. I don’t.
“I maintain,” Matthew says between bites of mac and cheese, “that Wile gave him away. That dog did not bark when we walked in. That dog wagged his tail and trotted back toward the bedroom, wagging his tail like,they’re in here. Come meet my new stepdad.”
“Stepdad?” I mutter, dragging a palm down my face. “You assholes are relentless.”
CJ leans forward, elbows on the table, grinning like the devil himself. “Skinner, buddy, we’re not judging. We’re admiring. You really out here, sneaking past a house full of trained professionals, plus Jackson, like you’re the damn love child of Ethan Hunt and John Wick.”
Jackson raises a hand. “Hey, I’d like to be excluded from that list of supposed badasses. I was literally petting Wile while trying not to think about why he smelled like someone else’s cologne.”
“You’re the one who asked if she started diffusing new oils.” Matthew laughs.
CJ pounds the table once then gestures across the room where Iz is laughing on stage, tambourine now in hand. “Look at her. Like nothing ever happened. Like she didn’t sneak you out of there like a thief in the night. Tell me that’s not a power move.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, watching her. “And I’d let her lead me anywhere.”
The whole table groans.
“God,” Jackson mutters, “we lost another one.”
“Down bad,” Matthew confirms.
