Page 73 of The Mountain Echoes

“Yeah!” She snorts.

Kaz slides his eyes over me, gives me a nod.

Bree lifts her glass. “We’re celebrating Aria. She ran the chute, jabbed every steer, and didn’t miss a beat.”

Aria laughs, loose and free. “I had help.”

“Earl is not help,” Bree counters.

“He is,” Aria says softly, her eyes gentle with affection.

“And we’re celebrating how Harold gave her an extension for three freakin’ months.” Kaz raises his glass.

We all toast Harold.

“I thought he’d ask me what I was smokin’ when I brought it up,” Aria admits, tracing the edge of her drink. It looks like bourbon, but I can’t be sure unless I get close enough to her lips.

Or you could pick up her glass and take a sniff.

Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?

The band begins to play a cover ofMade For Youby Jake Owen.

I get off my chair and hold my hand out to Aria. “Dance with me.”

She arches a brow, amusement flickering in her gaze.

“C’mon,” I cajole, wiggling my fingers. “Unless you’re scared.”

That gets her.

She slams back the last of her drink, sets it on the table, and places her hand in mine.

It’s warm. Strong.

We walk onto the dance floor, the low, smoky cry of a steel guitar sliding through the spaces between Jack Owen’s words.

She steps into my arms, stiff at first—but then she finds the rhythm, and leans in.

We move like we’ve done itbefore.

Her hand rests on my shoulder, and mine finds the small of her back, just above the waistband of those jeans. I stroke her bare skin.

I can feel the tension in her spine, the caution, the fire.

“You dance like a dream, darlin’.” I brush my lips close to her ear and feel a gentle shiver run through her. Seeing this cautious woman let go of her control for me is more erotic than seeing any other woman naked.

“You’re not who I thought you’d be.” She raises her head and looks at me. Alcohol has made her soft. I have no qualms about taking advantage of that.

“What did you expect?”

“A land-hungry rancher who bulldozes everything in his way.”

“I might still be that,” I warn her.

“Nah! Bulldozers don’t dance as well as you do.”

Halfway through the song, the dance shifts. Her chest brushes mine. Her thigh slips between mine.