“How’s it going?” She falls into me with a huff, both of her hands flat against my chest. I get half of an eye roll and a quirk of her lips. “It’s going.” “Oh yeah?” “Better if this giant buffoon of a man would stop yelling across a tree field.” “Hmm.” I pick up one of her hands and fold it in mine, taking care to trace my thumb over the delicate bouquet of flowers inked from her wrist to her knuckles. I arrange her into a proper dancing stance. “That sounds embarrassing.” She gives me a droll look, unimpressed as ever. “You’ve been bellowing my name across the dance floor, Charlie.” “Wouldn’t
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