Page 35 of Stick to the Deal (Friendship Springs Romance #3)

New Year Hopes

I lean back from the table, wiping a soft linen napkin across my lips. My stomach is borderline overfilled. Nic is leaning towards Colin in a heated debate, as the rest of her friends and their partners surround us. I’m happy to sit back, watch, and eat.

The gifted chef herself sits next to me. Her eyes dart around the room, and her fingers grip David’s—just above a shiny new wedding band.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten so much delicious food at an event before.” She turns to me with wide eyes. “Seriously, not even the Savoy high tea holds a candle to you. This is a triumph.”

Anna takes a deep breath, her shoulders relax as she releases it. She rests her hand on my elbow and her voice fills with emotion when she speaks. “Thank you.” Her eyes focus on me, brows pinching slightly. “So what are your hopes for the new year?”

I go to push back the typical discomfort in social situations, and find it missing. While I haven’t spent much time with Nic’s friends, they’ve been welcoming and easy to talk to. “I’m not sure. I’m content as I am. What about you? With a launch and a wedding, what more could the New Year bring?”

She laughs. “You have a point there, suga’. Maybe some peace and quiet should be the goal. For both of us.” She lifts her glass and I clink mine to it .

David stands, resting his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Come on, Hell’s Bells, you owe me a dance.” He winks at me as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

Laying my arm on the back of Nic’s chair, I survey the other side of the room. The girls have truly made something marvelous here.

The room sparkles with crystal and mood lighting, giving an elegant atmosphere, but the subdued furniture and decor keep it from feeling stiff.

Behind the backlit bar, two bartenders flip bottles and pour drinks.

The center of the room features a white dance floor with colorful lights and projections.

On the nearby stage, Anna’s brother, Huck, plays with his band.

It’s the best parts of a New York club and London ballroom mixed together.

A warm weight lands on my arm as Nic settles back. Her debate evidently finished, she turns to me with a smile, then leans closer. “Having fun?”

“Yes. This is so much better than my parents’ last week. Do you think we could convince Anna to cater next year? Then at least we’d be miserable and well-fed.”

She laughs and presses into me more. “Your mother might even smile. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when Anna’s cooking.” Her scarlet-painted lips lift as she sips her champagne. “Thank you for being here. It’s nice. Sharing this with you, I mean.” She turns.

With our noses inches apart, I can see the vulnerability in her eyes. My stomach clenches and my heart pounds. I skirt my fingers along her delicate jaw, her pulse thundering under my hand. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Emotions dance across her eyes. Like me, she’s learned to school her features in public, but I could watch her expressive eyes forever. Confusion, heat, and something that looks a lot like hope swirl within.

“Ren…” She leans in, her eyes on my mouth.

My hand still cradling her jaw. Just before our lips meet, the song ends and the crowd breaks into loud applause, shattering the moment.

She blinks the haze from her eyes and pins her social smile back on.

“You know what? Huck’s band is actually pretty good.

I’m going to go grab some footage. You good here? ”

I nod and reluctantly remove my hand. My eyes trail her as she darts through the crowd, a vision in a backless silver cocktail dress that clings to her lithe form.

“What a night.” Asher plops down into Nic’s abandoned seat. “Let’s hope this next year is quieter. I could use a break.” He tosses back the rest of his drink.

Johnson sits on my other side, the glow of his phone screen lighting his face. I glance at him curiously. “Two weddings, a baby, and an expansion at Pop? This town can’t take much more excitement than that.” He doesn’t even look up, his fingers flying across the screen.

We sit and enjoy the music for a minute. When Johnson still hasn’t lifted his head, I turn to Asher with a questioning look. He merely shrugs and shakes his head.

The curiosity finally gets the better of me. “Hey, mate, what are you doing on your phone?”

“My guild has a siege tonight and as the only paladin I couldn’t let them down.”

Was that supposed to clear anything up? I turn to Asher again, this time for translation, but he looks as lost as me.

Feeling the silence, Johnson finally looks up. “It’s an online multiplayer RPG. You don’t game either, do you? Dammit, when is this group going to get more gamers?”

“Sorry, I’ve always been more of a book person.”

With a muttered curse, Johnson returns to s ieging , or whatever he’s doing.

Asher leans across me towards his friend.

“What a waste having that face on a complete nerd. Don’t you even want to get laid?

You got enough numbers tonight.” In answer, Johnson flips him off without looking up.

Asher only shakes his head at his friend and turns back to me. “So you’re a reader? What genres?”

I settle into my chair. This is a topic I’m always comfortable with.

“Started with the classics in the family library—Shakespeare, Austen, Shelley, Keats, Byron. Then I moved on to the American legends—Hawthorne, Twain, Fitzgerald. Now with my e-reader I’ll pick up anything.

Suspense, fantasy, space opera, horror, even romance. ”

“Wow, that’s eclectic taste. So is that why you got into publishing? Nic mentioned something about it.”

“Sort of, though Elysium is strictly a human interest magazine. We don’t do books.”

“Well, why not?”

“It’s a completely different market. Hard to break in with the big houses dominating the industry and ad space.”

Asher shakes his head and leans in further, forearms resting on his knees.

“I’m not talking about the trad houses. Self-publishing is an underserved market.

If you already have the printing and distribution infrastructure from your magazine, offer services to indie authors.

Editing services, copywriting, graphics, special edition runs, hell, even subscription boxes.

You have it all there in a magazine. Just expand to partnering with indie authors who pay upfront, so no risk to you if it doesn’t sell. ”

His words bounce around my skull, sparking ideas and thoughts. Books have always been a cornerstone in my life. The one comfort in a life of stricture. Could I actually be part of that?

Pale arms wrap around my shoulders, and I smell Nic’s familiar perfume. “Come on, you haven’t danced with me and it’s almost midnight.”

I nod at the guys and follow my wife into the crush on the dance floor. It’s too crowded to really dance, so we merely sway to the music. It’s too loud to talk, but our eyes are having a conversation all their own.

Ten…

As the countdown begins, I pull her fully against my body.

Nine…

She arches her back slightly, pressing her hips more firmly into mine

Eight…

My hand strokes up her bare spine to bury in her hair, keeping her face close.

Seven…

Her lips part and her fingers grip my shirt.

Six…

My nose glides along hers in a slow, intimate caress.

Five…

A gasp, more felt than heard, leaves her parted lips.

Four…

My fingers trail along her neck to cup her jaw.

Three…

The green flecks in her eye sparkle in the lights, holding both secrets and promises.

Two…

The room fades away. My heart picks up speed as her eyes drop to my lips.

One…

We both lean forward, our closed lips meeting. I tilt my head for a better angle, my tongue seeking access. My hands softly clutch her to me, afraid to hold on too tight, terrified to let go.

Nic melts against me, opening herself as her arms slide further around me.

A cacophony of emotions shakes me—too many to name or properly process—but I do my best to convey them to her with my tongue. This isn’t our first kiss, far from it, but until now, we only shared impassioned embraces during sex. Any public displays were chaste and for show.

“Happy New Year!”

The crowd cheers and we break apart—reluctantly on my part.

Friends pull us into a heartfelt round of hugs and well-wishes.

As we’re passed around the circle, we maintain eye contact.

I see the same questions reflected in her eyes that are echoing in my mind.

What now? What does this mean? Where do we go from here?

The only thing I know is there’s no pretending now.