My hand settles on her hip as I wrap my arms around her. Unable to stop myself, I press a kiss to the top of her head. I feel her body relax, and I have to fight to hide my grin.
“So this is really a thing?” Brooks asks. He has his arm slung over Palmer’s shoulders, and she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Is what a thing?” Ramsey asks.
“The two of you.” Sterling points at us. “A thing,” he clarifies.
“If by the ‘thing’ you mean that Deacon and I are dating, then yes, this is a thing.” Her voice is strong and clear, and my chest swells with pride, knowing she’s using her words and that she’s open with them.
The room is quiet, which causes Ramsey to nervously shuffle her feet. I want to whisper in her ear that no matter what they say, this is between us. I want to encourage her that we can do this. We don’t need permission. We’re both consenting adults, but I don’t. A whisper in the quiet state of the room would sound like I was shouting.
I stand tall next to her, not letting any of the doubts that have plagued me show. I don’t have the words to explain how I feel when I’m with her. I don’t think about work. I don’t care about what’s going on around me. I keep my focus on her, and that’s a first for me. I’ve never met a woman who could hold my attention like Ramsey does. When it’s the two of us, even in a crowded bar, it feels like we’re alone. As if she’s the only other person in the world. It’s some kind of voodoo magic or something, but I crave it. I crave her and how she makes me feel.
Grounded.
Settled.
Content.
I’m all those things and more when I’m with her. One afternoon with Ramsey Smithfield changed how I view things. I’m a workaholic, and I put work before everything else. I never realized how much I was missing out on. My friends and family have tried to tell me. I’ve heard countless lectures about working my life away, but nothing resonated with me until the beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty walked into my life.
The four of them stare us down, but it’s Declan who breaks the silence. “When are we ordering pizza? I’m starving.”
“We just ate,” I tell him.
Declan pulls his phone out of his pocket. “It’s pizza. It’s good hot or cold. What does everyone want?” he asks.
“No anchovies.” Palmer shudders. “Other than that, I’m good.”
“Ramsey?” Declan asks.
“Oh, I don’t,” she starts, and I squeeze her hip. She freezes and tilts her head up to look at me.
“Your words, sweetheart.” I keep my voice soft, just for her. Not that I care if the others hear me, but my words are for her. To give her the courage and encouragement she needs to speak her mind.
I want more than anything for her to understand that her wants and needs are important, just as much so as anyone else’s. For far too long, she’s just gone along with what everyone else wants. I want the real Ramsey. The good, the bad, and every fucking thing in between.
“Ramsey?” Orrin asks.
She pulls her gaze from mine, and I do the same. I can see the contemplation on his face. My eyes scan to Brooks, Declan, and Sterling, and they’re all hanging on her every word.
“I’m not really a fan of black olives, but I can pick them off,” she adds.
“No black olives.” I leave no room in my tone for arguments. She’s not going to pick them off. We’re just not getting them. If they want them that damn bad, they can order a special pizza with black olives.
Declan opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it. I’m on high alert, waiting for someone to say anything negative to her. They don’t realize they’re going to have to answer to me. I’m a pretty laid-back guy, but there is something about Ramsey that reveals the protective side of me.
Declan gives a slow nod, looking at Ramsey as if she’s a stranger to him. “No black olives and no anchovies. Got it.” Placing his phone next to his ear, he steps out of the room to make the call.
“Rams, we need to get changed.” Palmer grabs Ramsey’s hand, and they disappear upstairs.
“How the fuck did we not know she doesn’t like black olives?” Sterling asks.
“How did you know?” Orrin asks me.
“How did I know what?”
“That she didn’t like black olives?” he clarifies.
“I didn’t until she said it.”
“But you knew there was something she didn’t like.” His gaze is intense.
I shrug. “It was a feeling.”
“A feeling?” Brooks asks in disbelief.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Not that I would know how to explain it. I just feel like I know her. There’s an intense connection between us, and it's as if we’ve known each other and been together for years.