Page 74 of Kentucky Nights
“Sit. I’ll get your plate.”
“Nonsense.” I pick up the flowers and hand them to her. “You sit down, and I’ll serve you.”
“For me?” Her smile reaches her eyes, brimming with surprise and glee. “I’ve never had anyone get me flowers before. They are gorgeous, Kentucky. Thank you. I need to put them in water. I don’t want them to die.”
The word ‘die’ hits a little too close to home. “I’ll handle all that. Right now, I need you to dance with me.” I hold out my hand for her to take. “Will you do me the honor, Ms. Whitley? And be by my side at the rodeo tonight?”
Her cheeks plump with her smile. I always want to be the one to put excitement on her face. I notice I do that often, and it makes a man like me feel real fucking good.
She slides her hand in mine, and I tug her close, dancing to the next Chris Stapleton song, “Think I’m In Love With You.”
“There isn’t anything else I’d want to do more,” Dru replies, blinking up at me with those big hazel irises.
I want our children to have her eyes.
If that’s even an option.
“You are the prettiest woman I have ever had the privilege of my gaze falling upon.” I trace her jaw, cupping her cheek in my palm. I need to be closer somehow.
“I don’t know about that.” She turns away, becoming coy.
I pull her in close as close as possible so our chests are touching, our hands are clasped, and there’s nowhere else to go except to get lost in the kitchen to the low baritone serenading us through the speaker.
We sway, dancing slowly with no hurry in the world. The tension becomes palpable the longer we stay close. The invisible urge to confess love or want. I hold my breath when we lock eyes. She trusts me. There isn’t the faintest scent of fear. Not anymore.
I smell something sweet invading our space. I’m assuming it’s peace. She turns her head, resting her cheek in the middle of my chest, and I bend down, kissing the top of her head.
I never want this to end. I want these moments forever. With her. No question.
The song is wrong.
There’s no ‘thinking.’
Iknow.
I’m in love with Dru.
To the point where death is no longer what I look forward to the most.
“Don’t you dare think about climbing out of the truck. Wait for me,” Kentucky orders.
A girl opens the truck door one time and is in trouble for life.
“Yes, Mr. Jones. Whatever you say.” I bat my eyelashes at him a few times, teasing him. “I’ll be good.”
He leans across the console, wrapping a hand around my throat. His lips are millimeters away from mine, the anticipation of his kiss a phantom taunt.
“You could choose to be bad.” He nips at my lip. “It just means I’ll have to bend you over my knee when we get home. Or maybe I’ll do that, anyway.”
Kentucky leans away from me, leaving me dying for his kiss, and he knows it too. Even walking around the front of the truck, our gazes are locked. I follow his every step until he is at my door and offering his hand to help me out.
I didn’t know men like him still existed. In a way, I suppose they don’t, considering Kentucky is from another time.
“Let me help you, Ms. Whitley,” he drawls, waiting for me to take his hand.
“Don’t mind if you do.” Slipping my hand in his, the world rights itself again. The strings that bind us twirl together, tying our hearts into one. My heart slows to a calm beat, a rhythm belonging to Kentucky and Kentucky alone.
Only he has the ability to bring peace to my heart.
