Page 15

"I haven't decided yet."

"You've got—" he checks the clock mounted crooked over the bar "—eighteen minutes to figure it out."

"That's not very long."

"No," he agrees, and his voice shifts quieter. His grin disappears. "It's not. And I'd ask for longer if I thought it'd change your answer any."

"Confident."

"Honest." He reaches over and tucks a loose curl behind my ear, unhurried about it, like he's got no intention of letting the moment rush past either of us. "I already told you, I don't usually stick around this long. I'm not really sure what to do with the fact that I don't want tonight to end."

My pulse fires hotter. As it comes out of my mouth, I already hate the suggestion. "You could try dancing with someone else. Give yourself a distraction."

"Tried that for years. Never worked out how I wanted. I stopped pretending I wanted a distraction the minute my eyes laid on you, Lainey." His thumb brushes my jaw, and tingles burst everywhere.

"Does that line normally work for you?"

"It's not a line," he says so adamant, it's hard not to believe him.

The band strikes up another slow song, easing the crowd back toward the dance floor.

He holds a hand out.

I take it, and he pulls me in close enough that there's no pretending the space between us is casual.

We don't talk much for the next several minutes. He keeps one hand at the small of my back, the other laced through mine, and every so often, his mouth brushes my temple like he can't quite help himself, like he's testing how much I'll let him get away with before midnight makes it official.

Somebody near the bar calls out that there are ten minutes left. The entire saloon flares with more energy.

Jagger doesn't loosen his hold on me. He pulls me in tighter, his mouth dropping to my ear. "Ten minutes."

"So I hear."

"You planning on running the clock out, or are you gonna put me out of my misery early?"

I tip my head back to look at him, and a sure grin spreads across his mouth. It's the same one that's been undoing me since the first dance. I try to stay nonchalant and answer, "Are you always this impatient?"

His hand tightens slightly at my waist. "Only when it matters. And, sugar, tonight, it matters."

There's a minute left. Jagger wedges us into the corner, off to the side of the dance floor. He stares at me like he's already decided how tonight ends and is just waiting for me to catch up. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Chewing on whatever's going on in your head instead of just saying it."

I tilt my head up. "Maybe I don't know what's going on in my head."

"I don't believe that for a second. But I'll let you keep pretending, if that's what you need."

"Generous of you."

"I'm a generous man." His thumb moves once against my hip, slow, deliberate, like he's testing whether I'll pull away. And he taunts, "You'll see after midnight."

I can't speak, afraid of what I'll say and unable to look away. His hot breath hits mine. The blue in his eyes swirls brighter.

The crowd chants, "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."

My butterflies turn me dizzy.