I didn’t go to my high school prom.

I went to a concert with my girlfriends, instead, secure in the knowledge that I wasn’t missing a damned thing. Screw high school rites of passage, and screw high school. I was already a million miles away in my mind.

I’ve never regretted the choice, and I don’t regret it now, but I do love to dance, and for the first time I think it might be nice to sway in a man’s arms all night.

This man’s arms in particular…

“I wish we’d danced at Emma’s wedding,” I say, studying Rafe’s face in the warm glow of the exposed bulbs crisscrossing the air above us.

The open area beside the horse paddocks has been transformed into an old-fashioned wooden dance floor, with the band on an elevated platform not far from the feed troughs. Tables swathed in red cloth surround the dancing zone, giving tired patrons and pups a place to relax with a drink—or a bowl of water—in between cutting a rug or playing fetch on the hillside. Closer to the main building, cooks from three local restaurants are filling the air with incredible smells, wineries are pouring wine, breweries are showcasing their beers, and Tristan is raking in the dough needed to cover the shelter’s unexpected summer costs.

It’s been an amazing night, a complete success, and I truly can’t remember the last time I felt so light. So happy. So filled with gratitude and hope for the future.

Rafe shakes his head. “Nah. Dancing at the wedding wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

“Why not?” I ask, brows lifting.

“The chemistry would have given us away.” He wraps his arm tight around me as he spins us in a circle, lifting my feet off the floor before setting me down with a skill that makes it clear this isn’t his first time making a woman swoon on the dance floor. “Our family would have taken one look at the sizzle and staged an intervention.”

I laugh as I glance over my shoulder to where his brother is helping pull taps at the beer station. “What about Tristan? You think he’ll try to shut us down?”

He shakes his head. “Tristan knows when to let life take its natural course. Which reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“What’s that?”

“It’s about my gear shift, actually.”

I grin. “One of my favorite topics.”

“Good to hear, but…” He trails off, spinning us closer to the edge of the dance floor before adding in a softer voice, “It’s about what you said at the wedding. About how humans aren’t designed to make the couple thing work long term.”

“I remember,” I say, my smile fading.

“So…I guess I’m wondering if you really meant that.”

I press my lips together as I search his eyes, looking for clues as to what he’s hoping to hear. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. My truth is what matters, even if it’s scary to say out loud. “The idea of finding The One has always seemed weird to me. Allegedly there’s this person out there, this singular, phenomenal person who will be everything we’ll ever need—our best friend, our lover, our partner, our confessor, our missing piece…”

I pull in a breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t think any one person can or should have to be all those things. It’s too much to put on one soul. I can be a lot of things to the people I love, but not everything, not The One. I would try, but I’m afraid I would fail. And if there’s one thing I learned growing up, it’s how much it sucks to fail at love.”

“It does suck,” Rafe says, understanding in his eyes. “But I would never expect you to be my everything, Carrie. I want your passion and your time. I want your trust and your body next to me in my bed, but…” He shrugs. “I like to figure out the answers to the big questions myself. And if something is missing in my life, it’s something I need to go looking for inside myself, not in another person.” He pulls me closer as the music shifts to a swoony ballad. “Not even the person I’m falling in love with.”

My breath catches, and my eyes get mistier than they were before. “Yeah? You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, the mixture of heat and heart in his gaze making my stomach flip. “But I don’t want to share you. It makes me crazy to think of another man tuning your transmission, no matter how my gear shift is designed.”

“I don’t need any other gear shift but yours.” I lean in, loving the way his powerful body feels pressed to mine. “It’s just that the science used to give me comfort, you know? When love kept bottoming out on me, I could blame nature instead of myself.”

“It wasn’t you or nature,” he says with a cocky grin. “You just hadn’t met the right guy yet. You needed someone who could handle you, Trouble, keep you in line.”

I laugh as I arch a brow. “Is that right? And you think you’re up for the job, Slick?”

“Absolutely.” His eyes sparkle with a mixture of teasing and truth. “As long as you’ll do the same for me. Don’t put up with any of my shit, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promise, sobering. “So does that mean the next time you run away, I get to send you a text telling you to get your cowardly ass back here and talk to me?”

He shakes his head. “No more running. I’m done with that. The only place I’m running is up the stairs to beat you to the bedroom, so I can be on bottom.”

“You don’t have to race me. I’ll let you be on bottom,” I say, threading my fingers into his hair. “I like you on bottom. And on top. And from behind. And in the car and up against the wall and—”

My words end in a moan as he kisses me thoroughly, deeply, pulling away seconds before the kiss gets too hot for public consumption.

“Save it for when we get home,” he whispers. “Or we’re leaving early.”

“Fine by me. I’ve already had a glass of wine, petted the puppies, and filled out my raffle ticket.”

He grins, and I’m struck again by how handsome he is. How clever and kind and an utter joy to spend time with. Not to mention a complete person who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. And then there’s the heroic side that’s had me humming since he chased Jordan to his cab.

He’s my knight in faded denim, and I can’t believe I ever thought casual would be easy to pull off with him. He’s already under my skin and so close to my heart I’m ready to put a key into his keeping.

I will always keep the master key for myself—my heart is mine to lock and unlock as I see fit—but I’m ready to make space for Rafe. I’m ready to know what it feels like to be that close to someone, so close that you know what they’re going to do before they do it, what they’ll say before the words pass their lips.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says at the same time I say, “Ready to go?”

We both grin. And then we make a break for the parking lot, where we abandon my car and head for Rafe’s bike. Because we like the speed, the rush, and the wind in our hair, buffeting our skin as we race past the rest of the people clogging the 101 South, bound for a place where we can be alone.

Or not so alone, I think, smiling against his back, hoping we keep riding together for a long, long time to come.