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answered, silently adding, Now that I’ve seen you.

    P aige carefully carried her wine glass down the stairs, keeping an eye on each step, aware that some of the guys lining the balcony railing were watching her descend the stairs but secretly hoping Dillon was watching, too.
    It wasn’t until she’d gone to find him that she realized she’d dressed for him tonight. She’d chosen the sexy black pantsuit for him, wanting him to look...to approve. She’d wanted his attention.
    She still did.
    Sitting back down at the small cocktail table with McKenna and Taylor, Paige felt a pang. As much as she liked her friends, she didn’t want to be here with them. She wanted to be back on the balcony with Dillon. Wanted him to look at her, and smile at her, and make her feel beautiful again.
    Desirable.
    Beddable.
    Because that’s how he’d made her feel up there.
    It was a nice feeling.
    She exhaled and crossed her legs, glancing past the tables with the red glowing candles to the big picture window. Snow was falling. Fat, lazy flakes swirled outside and while snow wasn’t anything unusual here, it almost always made her a little bit wistful. Nostalgic.
    There was a time in her life when a cold winter night meant curling up with a special someone in front of a fire.
    A cold winter night outside meant it’d be hot inside.
    With Dillon, it would be hot inside. With Dillon, it’d be scorching.
    She shifted in her chair, glancing from the window to the stage where Lindy was taking the microphone, to the edge of the balcony. From her seat she couldn’t see the balcony railing, or the guys at the railing, or Dillon at the bar. But she knew Dillon was there. She could still feel the heat in his eyes as his gaze swept over her. He’d looked at her as if he’d like to strip her clothes off and take her, here.
    Hard.
    Hot.
    Now.
    Now.
    Her breath caught in her throat and she balled her hands in her lap. Was she crazy for wanting that, too? Crazy to crave something purely physical? Because she knew he wasn’t sticking around, and maybe that’s why she felt safe desiring him. He wouldn’t expect a relationship. She wouldn’t be committing herself to anything. She’d be able to get close and then she’d be free. Of him. Of expectations. Of the need.
    But before she could decide what she wanted to do, the lights dimmed further and a spotlight hit Lindy as she turned on the microphone and welcomed everyone to Marietta’s first ever Bachelor Auction.

    T hings slowed down at the upstairs bar once the bidding started. Dillon used the time to straighten the bottles of wine, wipe down the table, and add to the stack of cocktail napkins on the corner of his table before heading downstairs with a tub filled of empty glasses from the upstairs tables.
    He glanced out the window as he went down the steps. Snow fell beyond Grey’s covered porch in thick white flurries. It’d been snowing earlier but it was coming down pretty hard now. No surprise there. The storm was supposed to move in and stick around for a few days. Great for the ski slopes. Not as good for the ranchers. Automatically Dillon thought of his cattle huddling beneath the big trees, looking for shelter. Not his cattle, he silently corrected, Trey’s now. The ranch was Trey’s to run. Dillon was stepping away, handing over the responsibility to his brother and returning to what he did best—design, engineering, problem solving, innovation.
    Leaving the tub of dishes in the kitchen, he grabbed an empty gray bin from behind the bar, and quickly, quietly moved through the tables at the back, collecting empties.
    The waitress—Dillon couldn’t remember her name—gave him a grateful smile, barely able to keep up with drink orders coming in, much less getting rid of all the used glasses and empty bottles.
    A new bachelor was taking the stage and the all-female audience whistled and cheered with approval.
    Dillon glanced up at the stage as he lifted the bin onto his shoulder.