“Thank you,” the cowboy said into his mic. Several others at the surrounding tables joined in as if they only just realized the music was live. “I appreciate that, thank you.”
Gratification slipped down her spine. She was no musician, but she had an idea of the courage it must take to play in front of other people.
Adrian smirked at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said as the cowboy started a new song with a livelier beat. He tapped the side of his guitar intermittently to add percussion, and Goldie was ready to settle in. This music, the lights, the company, this was butter.
Their waitress appeared with dishes of steak and steamed broccoli. The food looked amazing, and both Goldie and Adrian dug in. It was delicious.
“You were right,” she said, halfway through.
“About what?”
“This is definitely not Spaghettios.”
Adrian laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”
His hand was resting on the table beside her napkin. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose to taunt her. She had the sudden urge to reach and stroke his fingers, but she kept her free hand tightly fisted in her lap. This wasn’t a real date. He wasn’t really interested in her. It was just a ploy to keep him off his mom’s radar until he returned to Chicago.
When dinner finished, Goldie dug a few dollars from her purse and slipped them into the musician’s case. He tipped his hat in thanks, and the two of them left the way they’d come.
Adrian offered to stop by Aunt Bethany’s house again, but again she was out. Goldie swallowed her disappointment.
The urge to touch him tormented her through their entire drive back to the ranch. It was probably nothing more than the invitation he’d presented, teasing her, turning it back on her to initiate contact. It would be so easy. He was a reach away, and she knew he wouldn’t reject her attempt. But she wasn’t here in Montana for romance. She would find her aunt and then she was going back home, too.
Adrian pulled into the drive and exited. Goldie did the same, closing the passenger door. Her gaze instantly lifted upward. Stars shined like silver flecks on an exquisite gown. The more she tried to grasp it all in one glance, the wider the sky spread.
The night had been incredible. Adrian was cordial, interesting, easy to talk to, and even easier to look at. She didn’t want to go inside yet. She wasn’t ready for the night to end.
“It’s amazing,” she said with an inhale.
“What is?”
“How the sky seems like it could swallow you up, right here.”
Adrian stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I guess I don’t really take the time to look. Most of the time, I do what I have to and leave as quickly as possible.”
“I don’t get that. If I had a place this amazing, I’d never want to leave.”
“It’s complicated,” Adrian said after a few moments, stepping away from her.
It felt like a sting. Goldie regretted her insistence on his home being amazing. She hadn’t meant to insult him. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t give you a hard time for it. I know your dad just died, and emotions must be pretty raw right now. I really was just trying to make conversation.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re not an inconvenience, remember?” He lifted a hand as if to brush a hair from her temple, then seemed to think better of it. “The opposite, in fact.”
What did that mean? She wasn’t sure she was ready to find out. “I had a nice time, Adrian.”
“Want me to walk you to your door?”
She thought of Jordan eavesdropping earlier, and of the displeasure Adrian’s mom displayed any time she caught sight of Goldie and shook her head. If anything were said, starry-eyed or otherwise, she would feel too self-conscious about it. “We’d better just leave things out here.”
Steeling herself, she turned toward the porch.
“‘Oh wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’”
Goldie paused and her heart did a jumping jack. Romeo and Juliet was something she could recite from memory, thanks to playing Juliet in high school. She peered back at him. “Did you just quote Shakespeare?”
He grinned. One hand in his pocket, moonlight playing on his brow, he was temptation itself. “I told you he was an evil genius.”
She was reeling. Business tycoon. Possible billionaire. Shakespeare enthusiast. Was he serious? Everything in her told her to ignore the impulse and continue to her room. She didn’t listen. “I believe Juliet asks Romeo what satisfaction he can’t have,” she said. “What is it you’re wanting?”
Adrian shrugged. “I can’t really say.”
“Oh?”
“I told you I wouldn’t initiate anything until you did.”
Tension prickled all across her body. “What exactly am I supposed to initiate?”
A shrug. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Oh goodness, was he saying he wanted to kiss her? The idea of feeling his lips against hers tripped through her. The truth was, she secretly liked the way he touched her and held her hand, and how attentive he was when she spoke. Which was all the more reason to keep him at a distance.
Was that distance really necessary, though?
An inner argument surfaced. She’d been one hundred percent honest about not wanting to take advantage of his hospitality and generosity. She was leaving in a few days. She didn’t want to get attached only for him to turn to the next woman who had something about her.
But she couldn’t deny the tug of attraction she felt anytime he was nearby. The idea of a kiss was far too intriguing.
“How about a hug?” she suggested, unable to let herself give in.
“You sure you can handle it?”
Her mouth matched his half-smile. Body pulsing, she made her way across the gravel to his cocky stance. Suddenly nervous about touching him, about pressing her body to him, she swallowed.
He waited, hands in his pockets. He’d really meant when he’d said he wouldn’t offer any initiation.
What was she supposed to do, squeeze around him like a tree trunk?
“A hug involves two people,” she said.
“Does it? I wondered.”
“That means you put your arms around me.”
“Uh-huh.” He took a step. One hand came free from its pocket.
“And I put mine around you.”
“I like where this is going.”
She wanted to sock him, but at the same time, anticipation was building. She could tell well enough how toned he was beneath that polo shirt of his. The wind stirred hints of his cologne toward her, making this all the more agonizing.
She couldn’t do this cold contact. She needed something from him. Gently, she reached for his hand. His skin was warm, and she stared at their fingers as they connected. The man might as well be filled with electricity for all the charge he was having on her. She was trembling inside, yet she couldn’t pull away.
“Thank you for taking me to dinner,” she said, closing the distance between them.
His arms opened to her, and she wrapped hers behind him, allowing his arms to enfold her. A feeling sank in, warm and soothing and reassuring. She’d never been held like this. Not by her last boyfriend or by any of the other dates she’d had walk her to her door. This wasn’t just a hug. It was more like slipping her hand into a perfectly fitted glove.