He pulled her out of the kitchen.
Seeing them made Avery smile. She loved the way they looked together, moved together. Halfway through the dance, Ryder moved in, cut in.
“He stole your girl,” Avery said to Owen when he joined her.
“That’s okay. I’ve got a spare.”
He plucked the glass out of her hand, set it down before he pulled her into the mix of dancers.
“Nice moves.”
“We’ve danced before,” he reminded her.
“You’ve always had nice moves on the dance floor.”
“I’ve got a few I haven’t tried out on you yet.”
“Is that so?”
He brought her close. “Later.”
The single word shot a rocketing thrill through her. “Later. It’s almost midnight.”
“Thank God.”
She laughed, shook back her hair. “Are you going to open more champagne?”
“Yeah, in a minute. I want to kiss you at midnight, so stay close.”
“You can count on it.”
She refilled platters and bowls while he popped more corks, and the year ran down to minutes. People swarmed back in from downstairs, from outside so the noise level spiked.
He took her hands at the countdown—ten, nine, eight. She turned to him, rose up—seven, six, five. His arms came around her—four, three, two.
“Happy New Year, Avery.”
His lips met hers as cheers rang out, and the New Year began to tick.
As Avery rose up, Hope slipped into the kitchen. She’d open another bottle or two, she thought, avoid the whole couples-kissing-the-New-Year-in ordeal.
She twisted off a cork as partygoers shouted out the countdown.
And Ryder walked in.
She stopped. He stopped.
“I’m just opening another bottle,” she began.
“So I see.”
Shouts of “Happy New Year!” burst out, rolled over them.
“Well,” she said. “Happy New Year.”
“Yeah. Happy New Year.” He lifted his brows when she started to offer her hand. “Seriously? The hearty handshake again?” He shook his head, stepped to her. “Let’s do it right.”
He set his hands on her hips, cocked those eyebrows again, waited.
“Sure.” With a half shrug, she laid her hands on his shoulders.
Casually, on both sides, they touched lips.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders; his arm slid around her waist. Something broke, like light, through the simple contact, and left her breathless.
He jerked away, stepped back—and so did she. For one long moment, they simply stared at each other.
“Okay,” he said.
“Yes, okay.”
He nodded, strode out.
She let out the breath she’d barely gotten back, picked up the open bottle with a hand that wasn’t as steady as she liked.
And that, she thought, had been a very stupid way to start the New Year.
Chapter Eleven
Though midnight ushered in the New Year, it was nearly three in the morning before Owen ushered out the last stragglers.
He closed the door, turned to Avery. “Nobody’s passed out anywhere, right? That was the last of the last?”
Signaling to wait, she peeked out the window and watched taillights blink up the lane.
“And so we say good night to the last designated driver and his haul. I think we’re clear. Whew,” she added as she stepped back from the window. “The earmark of a good party is people don’t want to leave. It’s also the downside of a good party.”
“Then we can safely say, good party. Planned and executed in just over a week.”
“Don’t think one time makes you Mr. Spontaneity, but well done.”
“You made most of the food.”
“True.” She reached around, patted herself on the back. “So. Do you want to have some coffee—there’s some fresh left—and have the post-party analysis?”
“Yeah. Over breakfast.”
She grinned at him. “My thoughts exactly.”
He held out a hand, took hers so they walked through the house together, switching off lights.
“This doesn’t feel weird,” he decided.
“Not yet.”
Hand in hand, they walked up the steps. “Anyway, I’ve already seen you naked.”
“A naked five-year-old doesn’t count.”
“Actually, you were more like thirteen. Yeah, right about thirteen.”
She stopped at the bedroom door. “And just how did you see me naked when I was thirteen?”
“Remember that summer we all rented that house up in Pennsylvania for a couple weeks? In the Laurel Highlands, on the lake?”
“Yeah.” The summer after her mother had walked out. She remembered it very well.
“You snuck out of the house a few times, to go skinny-dipping in the middle of the night.”
“I . . . did. You spied on me?”
“It’s not my fault I happened to be sitting at the window, star-gazing through that little telescope I had when you did your Lady of the Lake deal.
“Telescope?”
“Yeah. I charged Ry and Beck a buck a minute to use it.” Now, that was a fond memory. “I seem to recall I made about twenty-eight dollars.”
“You charged them by the minute so you could all spy on me.”
“
“Enterprising.”
“I’ve got a head for business. Plus, it was nice. The moonlight, the water. Your hair was long back then.” He combed his hand through it. “What color’s this?”
“Red Alert, and don’t change the subject.”
“It was romantic, though I didn’t realize it at the time. At the time it was wow, naked girl. That’s how it is with a teenage boy.”
Her mind toggled back to that hot, hazy interlude on the lake. “You bought me ice cream that week. Twice.”
“Maybe I was marginally guilty and felt you deserved part of my profit.”
“And I thought you had a little thing for me.”
“I did. I saw you naked. I was even going to ask you to the movies.”
“You were not. Really?”
“Then you started talking about Jason Wexel—remember him?—and how you were going out for pizza when we got back. I clutched.”
