Noah pulled one hand from his pocket, extending it to me with a gentle smile. Something in my chest loosened at the sight, at someone seeing me without me saying a word. To everyone else, I was the charming, entertaining Ruby Grace tonight. But Noah saw what no one else did.
It seemed he had since that first day at the distillery.
A long sigh left my chest as I nodded, slipping my hand into his and letting him lead the way. Anthony had disappeared to go to the restroom about twenty minutes prior — the cameras from his media crew disappearing with him — and I imagined he’d been wrangled into conversation with someone else on his way back. And besides, I had danced with countless men that night. Noah was just one more, and it wasn’t frowned upon for the barrel buyers to dance with the raisers.
Logic and explanation aside, I wanted to dance with Noah.
And maybe that was all that mattered to me in that moment.
I stared at my hand in his as he guided me to the dance floor in front of the band. His hand was so large, hard and calloused, his wrist thick and forearms lined with muscles and veins. My hand disappeared inside his grasp, my dainty wrist sparkling with the tennis bracelet I wore. He was all down-home country, and I was refined country royalty.
Still, I marveled at how well my hand fit in his.
When we made it to the dance floor, he stopped, pulling me into him until his hand was on my waist, the other still holding my hand. For a long, stretched moment in time, he just watched me, his eyes dancing between mine. A small smile found his lips, and he nodded once before taking the first step, leading the way and guiding me along with his movements.
And then, we were dancing.
The song was a familiar one in Tennessee, “I Cross My Heart” by George Strait. The lead singer of the band crooned out the lyrics as everyone on the floor gently swayed or two-stepped.
But Noah?
Noah guided me in a beautiful waltz.
“How do you know this?” I asked, smile breaking on my face despite my urge to be angry with him after Sunday night.
“What? Waltz?”
I nodded.
Noah smiled, stepping with me into a soft turn before pulling me back into his arms. “My mom. She and Dad used to dance after dinner every single night — in the living room, the kitchen, wherever. And after Dad passed, the tradition didn’t stop. My brothers and I take turns dancing with her. And bless her, she taught us all with patience.”
My heart squeezed. “I bet that means so much to her.”
“Yeah,” he said, and I waited for him to continue, but he just swallowed, forcing a bit of a smile before he changed the subject. “I’m sorry about what I said Sunday night, Ruby Grace. I was out of line.”
He twirled me again, and I was thankful for the break in eye contact before we spun back together. Of course, that break in eye contact was long enough for me to realize how many other pairs of eyes were locked on us at the moment.
“Thank you,” I said, glaring right back at one of Mama’s friends until she tore her gaze away before I looked back at Noah. “Seems like half our conversations are apologies.”
“Well, I’m an asshole,” he offered honestly. “And you’re stubborn.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Am not.”
Noah just smirked, falling back into step as the song’s chorus flowed around us. His smile leveled out the longer he watched me. “So, why didn’t you tell me Anthony was coming into town?”
“I didn’t know he was,” I shot, and I couldn’t stop the defensiveness from breaking through. “And even if I did, I don’t see why I would owe it to you to tell you.”
Noah lifted his brows. “I was just trying to make conversation.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why are you so defensive?”
“I’m not,” I said quickly. “I just know how you feel about him, and I don’t want to play into it anymore.”
“I don’t even know him,” he responded. “I don’t feel anything toward him.”
“Sure,” I said, twirling out twice before I slipped into his arms again. “I totally got that vibe with the barrel tasting earlier. And with everything you said to me on Sunday.”
“I told you I was sorry for that.”
“Yeah, but did you mean it?”
His jaw clenched at that, and he watched me for a long moment before his eyes cast up to the top of the tent and back down. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not the one marrying me, isn’t it?”
Noah slowed, his hand on my waist squeezing a little tighter. He opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes skirted behind me, and he cleared his throat, forcing a smile as Anthony slid up beside us.
“Mind if I cut in?” Anthony asked. His threatening tone wasn’t lost on me.
Noah swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat before he released me, offering my hand to Anthony like I was some sort of prize. “Of course not. She is your bride-to-be, after all.” He looked at me with those words, and I felt those eyes like the hot blade of a knife. “Thank you for the dance, Ruby Grace.”
Without another word, he dropped my hand, tipped his hat at Anthony, and walked calmly off the dance floor.
A flurry of girls chased after him — ones who’d been watching us dance from the sidelines — and when he granted one of them her wish of completing the dance with him, my stomach twisted.
Daphne McCormick.
No one could keep a secret in this town — and it was far from a secret that Daphne and Noah had hooked up a few times, that she had had him in her bed more consecutive nights than any other woman in town could say. And the way her long fingers curled around his bicep possessively as she dragged him back to the dance floor, she knew it.
His smile was tight as he took her in his arms, but then she said something to make him laugh — really laugh — and seconds later, he was spinning her around the same way he had me.
I tore my eyes away, ignoring the sinking in my stomach and smiling at Anthony as he wrapped me in his arms. I started to waltz, but Anthony’s face screwed up in confusion before he slowed us into a gentle sway like the rest of the patrons.
Except for Noah and Daphne.
“What’s up with that Noah guy, anyway?” Anthony asked, noticing that my gaze had shifted again.
I snapped my attention to him, frowning in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Did you two used to date or something?” He was eyeing Noah menacingly, like he could somehow squash him like a bug with that look.
“Of course not,” I assured him, shaking my head. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends,” Anthony murmured, watching Noah a long moment before he turned his gaze to me. “Before, he was just the guy who showed you the barrel. Now you’re best buds.”
“Don’t be like that,” I said, voice low. “I’m yours, okay?” I held up my hand with the Harry Winston diamond on it to prove my point. “Yours. No one else’s.”
Anthony let out a long breath, nodding as a smile bloomed on his face. “I’m sorry. I guess you just bring out the possessive side in me.”
I smiled at that. “Guess that means you like me, huh?”
Anthony kissed me long and slow, stopping our dance altogether so he could frame my face.
And somewhere across the room, I felt another pair of eyes on me.
Later that night, when we were back at my parents’ house, Anthony strengthened a kiss between us, turning that sweet and romantic one from the dance floor into one heated with passion. He peppered my neck with hot, sucking kisses, his hands roaming, breath picking up speed in the hallway outside my bedroom.
“Anthony…” I sighed, pressing my hands into his chest to stop his advances. “I think we should wait.”
“Wait?” he asked, one brow cocking. “I took your virginity a month after we met, Ruby Grace. I think we’re past waiting.”
He moved in again, and though I chuckle
d, I felt a shade of embarrassment leak into my gut at his words. “I mean that we’re sleeping in my parents’ house, and we get married in five weeks.” I shrugged, running my finger over his chest. “I don’t know, it might be kind of fun to pretend. Go the traditional route. Wait until our wedding night.”
Anthony’s face screwed up like he thought that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but as his eyes searched mine, he blew out a long sigh, dropping his forehead to my shoulder with a groan. “Fine.”
I chuckled, patting his head like he was a child.
“I’d do anything for you,” he said, lifting his head. He ran the pad of his thumb over my chin, pulling me in for a long, sweet kiss. “And you’re worth the wait.”
I swallowed, smiling through the unfamiliar discomfort I felt. He was my fiancé, I used to squirm under his touch, anticipating more.
Now, I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
“Thank you,” I whispered, kissing him again, this time with my hands in his hair and pulling him closer. I wanted to erase the discomfort, convince myself it was just pre-wedding jitters, or the overstimulation of the day.
I love him, I told myself as we kissed. And I knew it was true.
I just couldn’t place the other emotion that I felt.
“Okay, okay,” he said, breaking our kiss and smacking my butt playfully. “Stop kissing me like that if you’re not going to put out, little lady.”
I giggled, pecking his cheek once more before I let him go. “I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep. See you at breakfast in the morning?”
“See you then. And, hey,” he said, sweeping my hair from my face. “You were wonderful tonight. I’m so lucky to have a woman like you standing behind me.”
My throat tightened again at the phrasing he used. I knew what he meant, that I was by his side, his partner in crime — but the thought of me only standing behind him made my stomach turn.
And Noah’s words popped into my mind.
I smiled, running my hand over his arm until I held his hand in mine. I squeezed it once, excusing myself in the next breath and escaping to my bedroom.
As I showered and got ready for bed, I tried to decompress from the night. I ran through everything I loved about it, and chose to acknowledge the things I didn’t love so much without judging them. I let those thoughts pass almost like clouds in the sky, touching each of them before I let them pass without another thought.
I had a tendency to overthink, and I knew in my heart that was what was happening now. I still loved Anthony. I still wanted to marry him. I still wanted to be the woman next to him when he was sworn into office as State Representative, and one day, as the President of the United States.
This was the life I wanted. This was the life I was always meant to live.
I crawled into bed with a renewed sense of ease and excitement for the weekend. I had wedding planning to do, and Anthony would be there with me. I wasn’t alone anymore, and I took comfort in that as my eyelids grew heavy, the gentle breeze outside lulling me into a peaceful sleep.
Until around three in the morning, when I woke from a dream with a sheen of sweat on my forehead and Noah Becker’s name on my lips.
Chapter 10
Noah
The next night, my brothers and I sat on Mom’s porch, drinking beer and decompressing from work while Mom made her famous pork chops inside. She had Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album blasting as she sang and danced along, moving around the kitchen, occasionally popping outside to see if any of us needed another beer. Family dinner night was always the happiest I saw Mom. It was when she had all her boys home, a meal to cook, a purpose.
I kicked back in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, one boot propped on the porch railing as I cracked open a new beer. I was still dirty from raising barrels all day, my muscles aching from the additional lifting I’d done loading up the single barrels the night before into buyer vehicles after the Soirée.
The sun was beginning its slow descent over our sleepy Tennessee town, casting Mom’s small garden in an evening glow as I took in the sight of my brothers. Jordan was still in his coaching gear, fresh off a day of summer training with Stratford High’s football team hopefuls. Logan wore his Scooter Whiskey tour guide polo and faded denim jeans, his face as worn as mine from working the night before at the Soirée and then an entire Friday shift, too. And though Mikey didn’t have to work the Soirée, he had still been there all night, dancing with Bailey before having to report for an all-day shift at the Scooter Whiskey gift shop.
It’d been a long Friday for all of us, and the normally rowdy Becker brothers were almost completely silent as we watched the sun set, sipping on our beers, rocking in our chairs, just existing together. We’d talk for a little bit before falling silent again, until someone else felt enough energy to pipe up.
“The boys looked good out on the field today when I drove by,” Logan commented to Jordan.
My older brother nodded. “Glad that’s what you saw. It was a mess from where I was standing.”
I chuckled. “You say that every year, and then you make it to state or damn near.”
He humphed. “Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we don’t.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Logan said. “A hard-working team and the best coach in Tennessee does, though.”
“We lost half of that hard-working team when this year’s seniors graduated,” Jordan pointed out.
“I wish Dad was here.”
The words came from Mikey, who had been silent up until that point, and they sliced through the quiet evening like the screeching tires of a car seconds away from slamming into a tree. Every single one of us paused where we were rocking in our chairs or taking a sip of our beers, a heavy silence falling over the entire family like a weighted fog.
Jordan cleared his throat first, clamping a hand on Mikey’s shoulder with an understanding, soft smile. “We all do, buddy.”
Mikey nodded, working the tab on his root beer back and forth before it broke off and he dropped it inside the can. “I think it’s different for me, though.”
“Why do you think that?” Logan asked.
Mikey shrugged. “Because I was only eight when he died. You guys were all older, teenagers, at least. You had all this time with him.” His voice faded, eyes still on his can. “He won’t be at my graduation.”
Logan and I exchanged a glance, then, realizing why the topic had been brought up. Mikey was seventeen, heading into his senior year — and Jordan had just mentioned graduation. I remembered that time of my life so well — the excitement of being at the top of the school, of finally finishing, mixed with the worry of what would happen next, where life would take me.
I had so many questions when I was that age — a teenager, becoming a new adult.
And I had Dad to answer them.
So did Jordan.
So did Logan, though Dad died just weeks after his graduation.
We’d all had him there, and once again, Mikey was left out of that equation.
“We’ll be there,” I finally said to Mikey, breaking the silence. “Mom, too. And Dad will be there, even if you can’t see him.”
Mikey sighed. “It’s not the same.”
“It’s not,” Jordan agreed. “And it’s okay to be sad that he’s not here anymore. We all have days. We will for the rest of our lives. He was our father.”
He paused at that, swallowing hard, and I could see it in his eyes, that sad truth like a ghost in his pupils. He was Jordan’s father — no matter what anyone in the town had to say about it. But, I still knew he wondered who his biological one was.
I wondered if any of us would ever know.
“It happens to me more in the small moments than the big ones,” Logan chimed in, finger tapping on the koozie wrapped around his beer can. “Like, I didn’t really think about him when I got the tour guide job at such a young age. But, when I’m fishing out at the lake, or when I catch a whiff of cologne th
at smells like the one he used to wear… that’s when it hits me. That’s when I have that I wish he was here moment.”
My stomach twisted. “For me, it’s always when I dance with Mom.”
We all glanced over our shoulders and inside the house, watching Mom bop around the kitchen with a soft smile on her face.
“I can take your turn tonight,” Logan offered. “If you want.”
I shook my head. “Nah, I don’t mind missing him, or thinking about him.” I shrugged. “Like Jordan said, it’s just become a permanent part of my life now.”
We were all silent for a long moment, facing the garden again, sipping from our drinks.
“I think it’s the unresolved part of it all that gets to me most,” Mikey said after a while. “Do you think Mom will ever stop looking for answers?”
None of us responded. None of us had to. We all knew she’d never stop asking, stop looking for holes in the reports, for foul play at the distillery. No matter how many years passed, she would never believe that fire was started by a cigarette.
“Hey, how was Nashville with Bailey?” Logan asked, effectively changing the subject.
Mikey seemed a little hesitant to let the topic of Dad go, but after a moment, a grin spread across his face, his eyes sparking with the kind of love-sick look only Bailey brought out in him. “It was so crazy. Seeing her on stage, the crowds going wild for her?” Mikey shook his head. “I’ll never forget it. She told the label she wants to finish high school, but that she’ll sign the contract as soon as we walk across the stage. Can you believe that?” He just kept shaking his head. “She’s going to do it. She’s going to be the next country music star. A hometown girl from Stratford, Tennessee.”
“And are you ready for all that comes with that?” I asked.
“As long as I’m with her, I’m ready for anything.”
I opened my mouth to point out every flaw I saw in this potential plan, starting with the fact that Bailey’s entire life would change when she signed that contract, but Jordan locked eyes with me, shaking his head almost imperceptibly to warn me off the subject. It didn’t matter right now, and just because I was a pessimist didn’t mean I had to drag my little brother down with me.
Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set Page 291
