All she cared about was escape. From all-too-knowing brown, lined eyes and spring-green ones full of questions.

Both expected far too much.

She jogged up the midway, passing a few games and food stands, coming to a stop as Ry called out her name behind her. She couldn’t run from him.

They lived in the same place, for God’s sake. For now.

To calm herself, she sucked in breath after breath of the scent of caramel corn and fried food and waited for her pulse to slow.

“Denver.” Ry’s hand came down on her shoulder and she stared straight ahead, unsure what to say. “You should’ve told me you weren’t into it.”

She gave a jerky shrug. “We’re just late.”

“And I know how much you hate that.”

Was it her imagination or did his voice sound hollow? Mistrustful?

She swallowed as he picked up her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Let’s go find the others,” he said against her knuckles, and she nodded, beyond grateful.

She wished more than anything she could be the woman he deserved. One without secrets and a past and scars, just like that tarot card reader had figured out. Whether it was from her woo woo cards or just a glimpse at Denver’s face, it didn’t matter. She was hiding too much, and the cracks in her veneer were getting wider every day. Letting Ry deeper into her life had meant making more room for him—and letting other things go. But it wasn’t that easy. She’d carried those particular burdens for far too long.

“Come on.” He linked their fingers together and they made their way in the direction of the music, dodging fairgoers and kids clutching giant stuffed animals and huge spools of cotton candy.

Happiness surrounded her, and she couldn’t stop checking out the shadows for men in dark suits. Men who wore dark glasses even at night. Men with heavy gold at their wrists.

Marco and his men were everywhere. It didn’t matter if they only followed her in her imagination at this point. They might as well have dogged her every step. Instead of the feeling of being tracked growing fainter with the passing days, it was only becoming stronger.

Ryan veered to the side of the walkway and they stopped. He pulled out his phone and let go of her to text someone. “Opposite side of the grandstand,” he said after a moment. “They’ve got a spot way in back. Hope they have big screens.”

“They do.” Denver pointed out one of the ones that flanked the stage, and he nodded, briefly riveted by the violinist accompanying the singer onstage. She didn’t recognize either of them, but Ry was already tapping his foot.

“Chase and Carrideen,” he said before she could ask. “They’re a married duo who got famous on one of those reality shows. Really talented.”

“Let’s find our spot then, so we can listen.” She took off to search for their friends, trusting he would catch up.

Movement was what she needed. If she kept moving, she couldn’t think. Tracking down locations was her skill. That, and making sure she couldn’t be found herself.

It took a while to push their way through the already pumped crowd. Everyone seemed to be hoisting up bottles of beer and the occasional sign, and the mood was excited and wild. Even without the opener onstage drawing the numbers of Keith, the audience was ready to party.

And she was ready to dance.

They found the band on the general admission lawn way in back, as advertised. Though it was dark out now, the grandstand area was ringed with lights, and the band’s area was fairly bright except at the extreme edges of the grass. They were off to one side of the main seating area, far enough away from the action that Denver glimpsed the helicopters lifting off for fairgoer rides in the distance. Their tiny lights winked against the night sky and she watched, riveted, as one disappeared into the clouds.

It was a chilly night for late July, but the mood around them was spirited and free. That was the joy of being at a concert with some friends in the summer.

No worries. No stress. Nothing but her guy walking by her side and giving her that smile that made her belly tighten in anticipation.

“Took you long enough,” West said as they approached, passing a beer to Ry without even asking if he wanted one. They’d known each other for so many years that they had a rhythm that didn’t need words.

Ry took a couple gulps and passed Denver the bottle, which she took gratefully.

They had their own rhythm too, one that was growing and changing every day.

“We had stuff,” he said, leaning forward to bump knuckles with Michael.

“Stuff like making out behind a bale of hay?” Jules asked, ducking behind Randy when Denver whipped her head in her direction.

Ryan glared at West. “Seriously?”

He threw his hands up. “Not it.”

“What are you clowns talking about?” Denver asked.

She expected more deflections but West sidestepped over to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Ry’s totally borked over you.”

She grinned and held a hand out to keep Ryan at arm’s length. “Borked? That’s a new one.”

“It’s accurate though.” West patted Ry on the head and jogged back to Lo, who was on a blanket at the far edge of the grass. She was drinking something out of a big blue bottle, and Denver could bet it wasn’t spring water.

“What did he say?” Ryan drew her close and streaked a hand down her ponytail, evidently forgetting that they were trying to be circumspect.

From Jules’s comment, that was probably a case of too little, too late.

“He said he’s borked over tonight’s show.” She batted her lashes. “Run to get us some beer, honey?”

“Lo has a cooler.”

“Yeah, but there’s probably not hot dogs in there. I’m hungry.”

“Hmm.”

“Please?”

He tipped back his head and a curl sprang free into his eyes. “Fine. I know when I’m being herded off, by the way. But I’ll get your damn hot dog and beer. And possibly one of those beer hats, just to torture you.” He grinned and pinched her ass before he jogged off.

She was still grinning when she turned to face the group, who were all watching them with unabashed curiosity. All of them except Mal, who’d stretched out on Lo’s blanket and pulled his hat over his eyes.

“Whatever you think you know, you don’t,” she said, loudly enough to hopefully reach most of them. The crowd was getting rowdier by the moment, and soon conversation would be impossible, even this far back.

Jules nodded. “Kissing best friends is a thing, like kissing cousins. Got it.”

Michael elbowed Elle, who tried to hide her laugh in a discreet little cough. Randy looked anywhere but at Denver, and Lo was still sipping on her bottle of heaven.

“Free love!” she shouted, and West did a fist pump.

Mal held up two fingers in a peace sign without pushing back his hat. His version of “who cares.”

Molly moved over closer to Lo’s blanket and started to dance, arms above her head. Apparently, the song choice didn’t matter much to her, because the violin duo had left the stage and now they were playing some random canned Reba from the speakers. But Molly was doing her thang.

Sounded like a good idea to Denver.

She walked behind the bunch of them, smacking West in the back of the head just for the hell of it—because he was the ringleader, she was sure—and snagged Elle’s hand. Together, they shimmy-stepped their way over to Molly, who’d found the closest thing to a clear spot for dancing. Elle spun out in a circle, releasing a laugh. Denver had to smile as she reached up to fix her loosened ponytail.

She was glad Elle seemed to be on the mend. They all seriously needed to have some fun tonight.

“Ooh, dancing. I can dance.” Lo popped to her feet, swayed, and giggled as she clutched her bottle. “Whoa, Earth is spinning.”

“Enough of that stuff, baby.” West plucked the bottle from her hand and took a swig himself, wiping his mouth. “Pure Kentucky moonshine, my friends. Sent from my uncle Levi. Uh-uh-uh, no touchy,” he said when Denver leaned back to grab the bottle. “You manhandled my person.”

“I could’ve done a lot worse.” She pried the bottle from him and tipped it back. Holy Christ. Her eyes bugged out as she returned the bottle. “What the hell is that?”

“Told ya, moonshine. Like mother’s milk.” He took another drink and let out a contented sigh. He spotted someone over Denver’s shoulder and raised the bottle. “Haywood, man, took you long enough. You get lost or what?”

Denver turned as Professor Haywood strolled over to them, making his way through the dense throng of concertgoers as if they simply didn’t exist. He wore a long coat and shiny shoes and didn’t look the least bit like he’d dressed to attend a country concert. “Or what. Traffic was a bitch.” He fist-bumped West, and Denver had to raise her eyebrows. Hadn’t been all that long ago they’d nearly come to blows over Lauren, but that was men for you. “Lots of people headed in for the show.”

“You’re here. Finally!” Lauren charged toward Ethan, nearly bowling him over. “Where’s your cowboy hat? And boots?” She pointed at her own hot-pink boots, paired with her cutoff jean shorts. She’d left the bus in sneakers, so the boots must be a new acquisition. “I told you that you had to be concert appropriate.”

“Boots make you concert appropriate? Then I’ll just turn right around and go find—” He broke off, his grin fading as his attention strayed past Lauren.

From her vantage, Denver couldn’t be sure, but she would wager his gaze had landed on one Molly McIntire, currently dancing with her hands cupping her shoulders and her eyes closed. She was still swaying on her own off to the side, lost in the rhythm of the canned Faith Hill filling the grandstand as they waited for Flynn Shepard’s set. He was notoriously late.

The notoriously drunk part was neither here nor there.

“No way, buster. You aren’t leaving just as soon as you arrived. Too bad. You’ll just have to make your suit work.” Lo wrinkled her nose and tugged on Ethan’s tie. “Seriously? Couldn’t you have at least ditched the vest?”

“I was at a professional event. But give me a minute.” Bypassing her, he went over to the blanket where Mal was camped out beside Lo’s bright pink backpack. She’d been carrying that old thing around forever and Ethan must’ve recognized it.

He quickly shed his trench coat, suit jacket, and the vest beneath—true, it was unseasonably chilly for July, but not that much—and made a tidy pile of clothes on the blanket. Then he efficiently rolled up his sleeves, baring surprisingly ropey forearms, and glanced at Molly again.

His focus on her was so complete that he didn’t pay attention as West dug another blue bottle out of Lo’s backpack and pushed it into Ethan’s hand. He took a drink, still watching Molly, and started to choke. The sound startled her out of her dance trance, and she frowned, her quizzical expression almost comical.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked in lieu of a welcome.

“I told everyone he was coming.” Lo tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, and he rolled it up again without looking at her.

“You smell like you fell into a vat of something,” he said, still staring at Molly. “Now that I’ve tasted this…stuff,” he paused, shaking the bottle. “I see why your breath is one hundred proof.”

“Moonshine. Isn’t it amazing? The buzz is just incredible.” Lo took a hit off Ethan’s bottle and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “So glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he said, taking another drink while he watched Molly. Interestingly enough, she was watching him right back.

“I give them one in two odds that they fuck before the night is over.”

Denver startled at the warm, rich voice in her ear. Ryan pressed a cold cup of beer against her upper arm and she shivered, both from the cold and his statement.

Anytime he said fuck in her presence, her panties incinerated. How had she missed the power of his criminally sexy voice before they’d hooked up?

“You and your odds,” she replied, accepting the beer and taking a quick, bracing sip. It went down her dry throat like liquid gold. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Mark my words. They’re circling. In about two minutes, he’s going to slide his way over to her, all casual like, and ask her something stupid. Like, do you like country music? Or are your nipples hard from the breeze or are you just happy to see me?”

Denver snorted. “He seems a little smoother than that.”

“Let me clue you into something—a guy who has spotted the woman he wants isn’t smooth. If he can keep his game up that well, he’s not that into her or his dick hasn’t taken over yet.” Ryan was still speaking directly into her ear, his words only broken by an occasional sip of his beer. She was standing at high alert herself, watching Molly and Ethan, aware of Ryan standing close at her back, the heavy column in his jeans just a hint away from her ass.

If this show didn’t start soon, she wasn’t entirely sure Molly and Ethan would be the only ones fucking. If they did.

“But Molly though?” Denver asked, turning her head so only Ry could hear her. “She’s so not into sex.”

“Neither were you, if anyone believed your facade.” Ryan gripped her hip, his fingers pressing into soft skin. “Even I did for a while.”

“You didn’t think about me and sex. C’mon.”

“I couldn’t think about you and sex, because I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else.”

A scrape of equipment onstage and the lowering of the lights around the grandstand made Denver suck down another sip of her beer. Thank God. She needed a distraction, and not the one currently pressed against her lower back as Ryan drew her into his arms. He didn’t seem capable of letting her go for a second.

She wished she didn’t like that quite so much.

Elle whistled beside them as blue, pink, and green lights popped on and a lone guy in a cowboy hat, flannel, and jeans came out, toting his guitar and a bottle of whisky. Flynn was starting the party off right. He took a deep swig and held up the bottle. “Y’all ready to let loose tonight?”

“Hell yeah!” Lo screamed on Elle’s other side, moving over to let Michael and West in between her and Elle. Denver couldn’t see what was happening that clearly because it was dark and there were too many bodies pressed together, but West’s head came down close to Lo’s neck, and it wasn’t hard to guess what direction they would be headed in soon too.

“Sucks to not be part of a couple with all these pheromones flying around,” Elle said to Denver, who tried to look sympathetic despite the fact that Ryan’s hand was now sliding under the hem of her jersey to toy with the button on her jeans.

Denver guzzled her beer as the rest of Flynn’s band took their spots onstage and launched into his biggest hit, “Halfway Gone.” It was a guitar-heavy song, the perfect complement to Flynn’s deep voice. He clutched the microphone in one hand, bending low to growl out his pain, but that bottle on the stool beside him was never too far away.

They all had their crutches. Her too.

Flynn’s set went from hard-driving country rock to a few heartrending ballads that had a sharper edge than pure country. He was definitely an artist who straddled the line, and never seemed to land solidly on either side. But he rocked out sometimes and could belt a traditional country tune when he wanted to as well.

He drank the same amount no matter what he played on his guitar or ripped out of his throat. She didn’t know if he smoked, but he certainly had that gritty rasp. The one that said he might be okay right now, but check back tomorrow.

She understood the sentiment.

After they finished their beers and set the cups in the grass, Ryan kept the beat by tapping his fingers on her belly and occasionally humming in her ear, which was so much hotter than it had any right to be.

Beside her, Michael and Elle were dancing in a kind of goofy, giggly sort of way. Denver was glad to see her friend having a good time. Well, both of her friends, but Elle in particular in this case. On Michael and Elle’s other side, West and Lo were dirty dancing in their own inimitable way. Jules and Randy were wrapped together, swaying, listening to the music, staring into each other’s eyes. Not making out, but they might as well have been.

Mal was…where was Mal? He must’ve taken off. Probably hooking up with some random concertgoer. And Molly and Ethan were standing stiffly beside each other, not looking, not touching.

Denver turned her head to speak near Ryan’s ear. “You’re about to lose, Waters.” She jerked her chin, hoping Ry would follow her gaze to Molly and Ethan.

Instead he cupped her cheek in his hand and brought his mouth down to hers, spinning out the kiss while her heart hammered in her ears and she fought the urge to shove him back. They weren’t supposed to be public. The band guessing was one thing, but this…

His mouth slanted over hers, their heads bumping together and knocking off his hat. Rather than trying to retrieve it, she sank her fingers into his wild curls and cupped the back of his head, leaning backward until the twang and grit of the guitars and Flynn’s gravelly voice swelled around them, throbbing like a heart.

Her heart.

Flynn’s brief set and the kiss ended about the same time. Ry pressed his forehead to hers, and she was so rattled she didn’t turn around to applaud. Ryan didn’t either, just held on to her and shared her air and gave her a solid place to lean when she wasn’t sure her legs would keep her upright.

Elle and Michael were talking about the set, oblivious to them. West and Lo had wandered back to the blanket—probably for more moonshine, though Denver was surprised the little area they’d blocked out for themselves hadn’t been trampled. The place was packed.

When Michael and Elle and Randy and Jules wandered back to confer with West and Lo, they had a clear line to Molly and Ethan.

Saying nothing, Ryan stroked his hand down Denver’s hair, and for a moment, snugged against his chest, she watched the other couple. They were apart from everyone else, somehow isolated in the crowd, and Ethan was behind Molly, his big hand under her chin. Tipping her head back so that her golden hair spilled over his arm. Fingers squeezing in a subtle show of dominance that had Denver clenching her thighs and closing her eyes until Ry’s warm breath against her temple made her look one more time.

Molly had turned just enough in Ethan’s arms that her mouth was right there. Ripe for his plucking. For the longest time, they hovered in that between space, and Denver sucked in a breath, almost unaware that she was clutching Ryan’s biceps.

As Ethan’s mouth touched Molly’s, Denver dug into flesh.

“Voyeur,” Ryan said into her ear, and she couldn’t deny it.

She’d always been a watcher. People, especially. Seeing this play out in front of them turned her on more than she could’ve ever admitted.

Ethan tugged at the rounded neckline of Molly’s tank, stretching the fabric down. The hint of pale flesh revealed had Denver inhaling again, and this time she drew in a lungful of marijuana smoke from someone puffing away nearby. Her head spun, and not just from misplaced desire. But she didn’t look away, not even when she would’ve sworn she saw the pink flash of a nipple. Her neck burned and her cheeks flamed and still, she couldn’t. Stop. Watching.

Any minute now the others would return, and her unintended show would be over. As it should be. This was an intrusion on their privacy. She wasn’t that person.

Hell, she wasn’t even sure who she was anymore. Everything felt all new again. As if she’d been broken apart and fit together in a different way.

For the first time in too long, she was being truly herself. Because she could be. Ryan didn’t judge her. He had her back, as always.

And then in an instant, it was all over.

Elle and Michael came back first, and Mal was behind them, his big body blocking out everything. Ending her moral dilemma.

Thank God.

Ryan cupped her cheeks and brought her face up to his, his green eyes luminous in the near dark. “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he mouthed, punctuating the words with the pulse of his cock between her legs.

She moaned, dropping her head back, barely aware of her surroundings. Ryan was her only focus.

Distantly, she realized Keith had come onstage. The crowd was going nuts around them, everyone jumping and cheering as he launched into one of his signature hits. The familiar opening notes of “Days Go By” revved the audience into a frenzy as Keith greeted his fans, and she didn’t even turn around.

She couldn’t do anything but stare at Ryan, and hope he understood she needed something so much more important than even music.

Him. All of him, right now.

But he didn’t give her the relief she was seeking. He turned her to face the stage and slid his hands just under the hem of her jersey, keeping the pressure light as he found her earlobe with his teeth. “Anticipation, Colorado,” he murmured.

Her snarl was loud enough to make his chest rumble with laughter.

But at least he had good timing. Keith’s next song was her favorite of his, “Somebody Like You.” The instant he started to play the telltale chords, she let out a shriek and tugged on Ryan’s hand, drawing him into the closest thing to an open area so they could dance.

Elle and Michael, and West and Lo, and Randy and Jules were all clustered in close too, each couple dancing and laughing. Michael spun Elle out, so wildly that she nearly collided into—

Mal.

For the last few minutes, Elle’s neighbors had been Randy and Jules. But they’d slid down the row into the space where Molly and Ethan had been up until a moment ago—hmm—and Mal had moved over.

“Here we go,” Ry said under his breath as Elle blinked up at Mal, her hands flattening on his chest as if she hadn’t expected him to be there.

Denver and Ryan kept dancing, their rhythm almost as natural as the one they’d found in the bedroom. But she angled herself so that she was closer to Elle and Mal, because if he started shit, she would be the one to stop it.

No one was dulling the smile on Elle’s face tonight. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Mal reached up and caught Elle’s hand, gripping it for a second before he spun her out again and sent her whirling back into Michael.

Michael looked as surprised as Elle did, but he kept up the ruse, laughing and dancing. He twirled her around on the grass, grinning as she kicked off her sneakers, and glanced over his shoulder as if he was ready to spin her into Mal’s arms again. Elle’s smile grew, burning brighter for an instant like a match struck into flame, before her gaze fell on the empty patch of grass where Mal had stood. And her smile vanished.

“Asshole,” Ryan muttered, and Denver sighed.

Attraction, lust, and love—and hell, even friendship sometimes—were a crapshoot. The best you could hope for were a few good times and a couple orgasms. And if you got really lucky, maybe someone to eat pancakes with at four a.m. when the diner was closing.

Keith was jamming out with his band, turning the song into one long, extended guitar solo. Golden hair curtaining his face, fingers flying over the strings. Ryan was singing along, staring at her as he said every word. Through twists and dips and sways, he never broke her gaze.

He wasn’t just mouthing words. He was telling her how he felt, and she couldn’t breathe for all the buzzing going on under her skin.

Song after song, they danced together. Kissing in between, laughing at nothing, occasionally swapping partners when one of their friends wandered too close. But even when they were apart, she felt his arms around her. Could hear his husky voice singing in her ear and the warmth of his kisses.

And when Keith’s extended encore ended at just about the same time that the fair’s nightly fireworks show started to celebrate the day’s festivities, she sat on Lo’s blanket and shared a bottle of moonshine with Ry and her friends—most of them, minus Mal and Molly and Ethan, who were still MIA—while they oohed and aahed at the rainbow of colors flashing through the night sky.

This was her reality now. Happiness and fun and work and friends.

And Ryan.

Nothing from her past could touch her. Her uncle had ensured she could make a clean break. He had contacts all over the world and ways of pulling strings to ensure Marco and the men who did his dirty work couldn’t get close to her. Added to the steps that she’d taken for protection, she was safe. Memories couldn’t harm her, no matter how much they still stung.

Now she needed to put it all behind her once and for all.

She gripped the bottle and shifted to grin at her best friend. Just like hers, his mouth was wet from the moonshine. After a while, it didn’t burn so much going down.

Neither did leaning over to kiss him while her friends laughed and clapped.

Tomorrow she might regret this. Tonight she was going to live.