Page 59 of Stolen for Keeps
But I held him a little tighter this time.
Beneath the charm, the confidence, and the strength, I felt something raw, something breakable. And all I wanted was to shield him from what was coming. We weren’t fooling anyone. Feelings had tangled between us. And when I left, it wouldn’t just be distance. I’d be the one to break his heart.
He didn’t deserve that. Not him.
The song ended, but my pulse hadn’t slowed.
And that was a problem.
A big one.
“Drink, Blue?” Noah’s voice curled around the nickname with just enough heat to stir something inconveniently warm in my center.
“What happened to the ‘Storm’ bit?” I asked, raising a brow.
That crooked smile of his stirred up every wrong idea in my head.
“Nah. Just Blue for now. Gotta earn the rest.”
I crossed my arms, mock stern. “Lucky you didn’t go with Blueberry Muffin. That would’ve been downright offensive.”
“Could’ve gone with Bluebell. Maybe Bluebird,” he said, laughter in his voice.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’d let those slide. As long as it’s not muffin-adjacent or remotely princessy.”
He leaned back slightly, enough to give me space, but not enough to break the moment. “All right,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “So, drink?”
I made the universal pondering face, half frown, half flirt. “It’s gonna bloat me up, but yeah, sure.”
The truth was, I needed something cold. Something to reset my brain.
His lips twitched. “Worried you won’t be able to squeeze back out of that dress?”
Bastard. I smacked his arm, but my laugh came too loud,loud enough that Sheryn shot me a look like I was the one getting married.
Pleased with himself, he asked, “What’s your poison?”
“Champagne,” I said, mostly because it was the closest thing within reach.
He smirked. “Safe choice.”
I arched a brow. “If they had bourbon on the rocks, I wouldn’t be playing it safe.”
He glanced around, scanning the drink table. “Hate to break it to you, but unless you want to chase down a ranch hand and wrestle a flask off him, champagne’s all we got.”
I sighed, eyeing the empty corner. “Tragic. I guess the open bar’s just running fashionably late.”
“You’re early, Blue,” he said, passing me a glass.
We turned toward Sheryn and Nick.
“To the bride and groom,” Noah said, raising his glass.
I quipped, “To the poor guy who now has to live with Sheryn’s color-coded spreadsheets.”
Sheryn chucked a fistful of confetti at me as the room burst into laughter.
Noah barely managed to take a sip before he said to me, “Brutal. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
