63. Marnie

“Damn dude, what happened to you?”

Bo looks past my shoulder. “You look like you got rode hard and put away wet.”

I turn, eyes immediately locking onto Dusty’s. A happy little thrill goes through my stomach—the same feeling I get every time I see him. But Bo’s right, he does look tired. Usually, he’d have a clever comeback for his buddies, but this time, he just goes straight for me. His hands weave through my arms, resting on my lower back. I hook my hands around his neck and lean into him, taking in the clean soap scent radiating off his skin. Peering up at him, I have to agree. He looks drained. “You do look tired.”

Leaning in closer, I push up on my tiptoes and he accommodates me by leaning down so I can whisper in his ear. “Still sexy as hell, though.”

That brings a smile to his lips, though there’s still something off that I can’t quite put my finger on. He pulls me hard against his body, tucking my head under his jaw. I pat his chest. “Did you eat?”

I feel him shaking his head.

“I saved a plate for you.”

He takes a shaky breath.

Damn, what is wrong with him? Wiggling out of his tight hold, I take his hand. Snagging the plate we wrapped up, I find an empty picnic table and push him onto the bench. “Sit. Eat. I’ll grab you a beer.”

I snag a beer from the cattle tank full of ice where they’re chilling. He’s facing away from me. His back is straight, but those shoulders look strained. Tired. Like he’s carrying the weight of the world. I glance over at the barbecue stand and notice his friends are watching him just as warily as I am. I suppose that’s the curse of being the clown. If you don’t bring the party every time, people get worried. I resolve to just let him be tired if he wants to. He doesn’t have to perform. Not for me. I like every side of him.

Easing onto the picnic bench next to him, I set the beer by his plate. “Have you eaten anything today?”

He’s got both hands on his head, massaging it like he’s got a headache. “Had a bag of chips at lunch, I think.”

“A bag of chips?”

I shake my head. “You aren’t going anywhere until you eat every last bite.”

A smile tugs at his lips, making my heart flutter a little. I ease off the bench and stand behind him. Leaning my tummy against his hard back, I lay my hands on his shoulders and knead his tense muscles. “Eat.”

He finally complies, faithfully shoveling potato salad and rib tips into his mouth. I move my fingers to his neck. His muscles move in interesting ways under my fingertips. I watch the tendons flicker in his jaw. Watching someone eat shouldn’t be sexy, but I’m a baker. I made that potato salad myself. And I am ridiculously turned on just watching him eat the food I made.

I run my fingers over his scalp, leaning in to rest my chin on his shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is too light. He pushes his empty plate back, taking a swig of beer, before turning on the bench so that he’s facing me. Grabbing my hips, he navigates me so that I’m standing between his legs. That puts his head around boob level. He turns his head and leans into my chest. I wrap my arms around the back of his head and run my fingernails through his hair.

He lets out a long breath. “I’ve been thinking about this dress all day long.”

I smile, toying with the ring in his ear. “Oh yeah? Whatcha been thinking about?”

“Taking it off.”

“Right here and now?”

I feel him laughing against me, a soft rumble in his chest. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Yes, you would.”

His hand curves over my ass, bunching my skirt a bit in the process. “I would?”

I capture his hand, bringing it back to my waist. “I get the feeling you’re the possessive type.”

He dips his jaw, allowing that what I said might be true. “You might have a point.”

He sighs. “Not sure I want to wait until after fireworks before I get you alone.”

“Well,”

I draw the word out. “Isn’t there a quiet place we could go where we could still see them?”

He goes still in my arms. “Like out in the country?”

“Yeah.”

“I like the way you think.”

He grabs my hips, easing me back enough so that he can stand. Taking my hand, he strides through the crowd. I glance back and catch Andy’s eye, winking at her. She laughs, turning back to Bo.