Page 52 of Rags's Awakening
A tremor flashed through her, but she still didn’t turn.
The music crashed to an end in a swirl of cheers and feedback. Casey clapped automatically, grateful for the noise and for anything that hid the fact that Rags was almost plastered against her.
The band thanked the crowd and stepped off the stage, laughter and voices swelling as people drifted toward the beer tent and food booths.
“How’ve you been?” he said, voice low and rough-edged.
She forced herself to face him. “I’ve been fine. Busy.”
He nodded, eyes sweeping over the shifting crowd before returning to her. “You liking the festival?”
“It’s cool,” she said, glancing toward the booths so she didn’t have to meet that stare head-on. “It’s my first time.”
“Oh, yeah?” His gaze dragged over her face, then down her body, slow, hot, deliberate.
A pulse of heat curled low in her stomach. She looked away, pretending to watch the stage crew hauling cables.
He edged nearer, closing the final inches of space.
“What else have you been doing besides work?” he asked.
“That’s about it,” she said. “How’ve you been?”
“Okay.”
“That’s good.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Have you been thinking about me?”
The question was quiet, but it sliced right through the noise around them.
Casey froze. For a heartbeat, she thought about lying, laughing it off, pretending that night hadn’t replayed in her mind a hundred times. But she couldn’t quite make her mouth move.
Instead, she met his gaze and said, “Don’t start, Rags.”
His smile curved up, slow and knowing, and it unraveled all the distance she’d tried to build in an instant.
“I’m not startin’ shit, woman. I asked a question.” His voice dipped lower. “So… have you been thinkin’ of me, Casey?”
She took a small step back, forcing herself to breathe, to remember every reason she should walk away right now. But his voice, his nearness, and the way he said her name all tangled inside her, dragging every boundary she’d built into a blur.
“Like I said, I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit.” He lifted his hand and ran his fingers up her arm, slow and teasing, tracing goosebumps in his wake. “Why’re you afraid to admit it? I’ve thought about you.”
Panic fluttered.Where the hell is Zoe?
“Come on,” he said, threading his fingers through hers.
He tugged her alongside him, and she stumbled a step to keep up, scanning the crowd, looking for Zoe, hell, even Ryan. That was how rattled she was.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I gotta check something out by the barn.”
She watched his gaze sweep the grounds, scrutinizing the faces of men who moved like they belonged to other MCs.
“What’s going on? I feel tension.”
