Page 31 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

The excuse to step away from Sophia was supposed to clear my head and sober me from the lust clouding my judgment.

The second my hand touched the smooth skin of her back, I knew I’d only end up wanting more. I guided us through the crowd to a quiet corner, needing her closer, like she was my life raft in a churning, shark-infested ocean.

I got that much.

But every time I acted against the invisible rules I’d set for myself, I pushed the boundaries further.

Don’t stroke her smooth skin.

Don’t pull her too close.

Don’t press her soft body into mine.

But I did all of it.

The ache to taste her lips again was unbearable. I had pulled us toward a darkened alcove—we were nearly alone. And I almost pressed too far.

The song ended just in time, saving me from losing the last of my resolve.

But when we ran into Davis, and I saw the way he watched her—his eyes calculating, like he was assessing more than just the moment—it reminded me where we were.

People would be watching, scrutinizing.

I forced my mind to be distracted by a new mission: find Buzz. After a couple of laps, I deemed my mission unsuccessful, though I did run into Davis again .

His expression was neutral, but his words sounded acidic. “Oh, didn’t I mention it? Buzz told me weeks ago he wasn’t planning to show. Guess it must’ve just... slipped through the cracks.”

He threw a glance toward Sophia at the bar before winking at me and wishing me a good evening. The exchange made my skin crawl, a pressure blooming behind my temples like a warning.

Buzz never misses these events, and the fact that he didn’t even think to inform me of his planned absence was another strange act to add to the increasingly long list.

I looked at my phone again to make sure I had service. Sure enough, it had full bars and no messages from Buzz.

Glancing back over to the bar, I noticed the bartender, Brandon, was leaning toward Sophia. He said something that made her laugh. She threw her head back and throatily bellowed. It was completely unladylike and crass, making a few women sneer in her direction.

I enjoyed being the one to earn those laughs, and I didn’t like seeing someone else doing it.

Come to think of it, the two of them were looking awfully chummy right now.

Each step toward the bar sent a jolt of anger down my spine. Buzz, Davis, the entire Norwood family, Brandon the fucking bartender, every damn guest here—all contributing to the tension that had been building in my shoulders since I walked into this stuffy event.

When I walked up to the bar, Brandon saw me and instantly straightened.

“Welcome back, sir. No one talked to her, no one kidnapped her, no one ate her,” he reported.

Sophia giggled at his joke, which was my joke first.

“Yeah, you seem to be doing a great job at keeping her company,” I said, not even attempting to hide the bite in my voice.

I leveled him with a look, and when he didn't throw a snide comment back—and I caught a bit of worry in his eyes—I slid another fifty across the bar.

“You can go now,” I told him.

He left abruptly, not acknowledging Sophia again.

“You could be a little nicer, you know. He and I were just sharing some awful bartending stories,” she chuckled and hiccupped .

I leaned my arms against the smooth top of the bar and took a deep breath. Each day, the crumbling pillars of my life were getting harder and harder to shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sophia asked, breaking my thoughts.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever is making your face look like that?” She drained the last of her martini.

“And what does my face look like?”

“Like someone kicked your puppy and then lit your Beanie Baby collection on fire.”

I chuckled, my throat felt raw, but Sophia was already brightening my dark mood. “That sounds like a personal story of yours.”

“They are very flammable… Beanie Babies, not puppies.”

This time, I couldn’t help it, I laughed—a throaty, authentic laugh. It snuck up on me—the noise and the sensation were almost foreign after years of practiced restraint.

I didn’t share my feelings with anyone—it felt like exposing a weakness, and I couldn’t afford to be weak. But something about the way she looked at me—the sincerity in her eyes, the mounting stress that was pressing on my chest like a lead vest—opened something within me.

“It’s my grandfather,” I sighed as I sank into the barstool next to her, “and a slew of other things I don’t have time to dig into.”

“Well, I have time.” She placed her hands on each side of my barstool, trapping my legs with her arms, unintentionally giving me a great view down her dress. “And you don’t have an escape route,” she added, eliciting yet another genuine laugh from me.

In our quiet corner of the bustling gala, I shared my concerns about Buzz. It felt good to get it off my chest with someone who—despite only knowing a short time—felt like a vault to store all of my troubles in.

Her hands found my shoulders somewhere in the middle of one of my rants. With practiced fingers, she dug in deep, working loose a knot I swear had been buried for years.

“Is this okay? Not crossing any lines?” she whispered in my ear—and I felt those words travel straight through me .

This woman didn’t just chip away at my defenses—she dismantled them, piece by piece.

She listened intently, asking me deeper questions to get beneath the surface answers I would always initially give people.

Usually, I hated these stuffy events—putting on the mask, playing the part. But with her, it felt... easy. Good, even. Like I could finally exhale.

I didn’t even know how much time had passed when I noticed a figure standing in my peripheral.

I turned, my face morphing into anger, when I noticed it was Landon. His parents were lingering behind him like tiny, pathetic bodyguards.

“It’s time for us to leave.” Landon nodded toward Sophia.

Sophia stood up, straightening her dress before looking at me. Her face was calm, but I saw the unease beneath the surface. “Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Buescher. I look forward to working with you.”

They started to walk away together, and bile rose in my throat. Sophia probably didn’t realize Alicia was forcing her and Landon to shack up together tonight.

I needed a reason to make her stay. One that wouldn’t raise suspicion or cause a scene.

“Actually,” my voice boomed as I stood from the bar stool, buttoning my jacket as I strode toward them.

Landon and Sophia turned, her eyes curious, his murderous.

“I need Ms. Carlson to stay here for a while longer. There are a few more people I need to introduce her to.”

Sophia’s eyes went wide with excitement, and she took an eager step in my direction.

My body thrummed with victory. This was too easy.

Instead of letting her go, Landon grabbed her arm, pulling her back like a spoiled boy on the playground who didn’t want to share his toy.

“She’s not staying here,” Landon said with a scowl.

Sophia’s face winced in pain, and I saw red. I closed the gap between us in two hurried steps. My fists clenched at my side.

Perry stepped quickly between Landon and me, whispering forcefully to his son. “This is not the time nor the place. Let her go. ”

Landon looked at his father and then at Sophia, his face teetering on the edge of rage and loss.

“Let. Me. Go. Landon,” Sophia bit out.

Her words were laced with double meaning, and I don’t think I was the only one who heard it.

A small crowd of onlookers started to gather around us, undoubtedly storing this in their flour sack heads to be ground up later at the rumor mill.

So much for not causing a scene.

Landon clenched his teeth, but slowly uncurled his fingers from Sophia’s bicep. He gave me one last parting sneer and then turned briskly away, following Alicia out. Perry kept his hand on Landon’s back the whole way, preventing him from coming back and making a stupid decision.

I wished he would make that stupid decision.

My focus shifted to Sophia, the expression on her face dissolving my rage.

“Are you okay?” I stepped toward her, fighting between needing to scoop her up in my arms and wanting to keep a low profile.

She nodded, but the onlookers continued their not-so-covert observations. We needed to leave quickly before anyone else took notice.

“Come with me.” I led Sophia toward the coat check, winding through the massive ballroom, carefully keeping my hands off her.

We made it to the small coat check line. I reached into my pocket and fished my ticket out, anxious to get the hell out of here.

“We’re not staying?” Sophia asked.

“No, we’re done here,” I answered my voice low and abrupt.

“Well… how does one get a new plane ticket to Misty Springs when theirs just walked out the door?” Sophia asked, as we waited.

Her question reignited the simmering anger I’d been trying to bury. The Norwood family and their manipulations were poison—and she’d fallen right into their trap.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay level. “You never had a ticket home tonight.”

“What? What do you mean? Of course, I did. We were supposed to take the red-eye back to Misty Springs,” she insisted, confusion clouding her expression .

I didn’t bother softening the blow. She needed to know the truth, and we didn’t have time to sit here and dissect the many levels of fucked-up-ness the Norwood family encompassed.

“There is no red-eye to Misty Springs. There never was. Alicia set this up. She wanted you stranded, so you’d end up staying with Landon tonight. It’s a power play—to humiliate you into crawling back to her pathetic son.” The absurdity of it all only fueled my rage.

I handed the claim slip to a coat-check kid dressed in suspenders and a bow tie.

“What?” Her wide eyes reflected disbelief and innocence that made my chest tighten. “I knew they could be cruel, but that’s… that’s diabolical. Who does that?”

She had no idea how twisted people like the Norwood family could be.

“Your ex-future in-laws, that’s who.”

Her voice wavered. “How can I get home if there is no flight? What am I going to do?”

“You can stay with me tonight. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.” The words slipped out before I could reel them back in.

The thought of Sophia in my apartment stirred something primal. The flash of her dress pooled in the corner on the floor—the idea of her, barefoot and padding across my floor, curled up on my couch.

Too intimate. I blinked the thought away.

Her eyes found mine, wide and uncertain, while her fingers twisted at her side.

The crowd started to thin, and my gaze locked on Cindy, prowling behind a group of guests sipping a cocktail like a Bond villain. Sophia and I needed to slip out of here now, before we drew more attention to ourselves.

“I’ve got a spare bedroom—plenty of space. You’re not getting a hotel tonight, not in this city.” I held her gaze. “So it’s either come with me, call up Alicia and let her know you’re ready to be pimped out to her son, or find yourself a nice park bench.”

I shrugged on my coat and walked toward the exit, my pulse hammering.

No time to debate. No room for hesitation .

Negotiation tactics didn’t only work in the boardroom—sometimes, survival demanded clarity, as harsh as that may be.

She didn’t deserve my impatience. But I was tapped out for the evening.

I only hoped I still had enough of a defensive line to avoid doing something stupid once I got her alone in my apartment.