It wasn’t a question, but as he pulled her up to her feet and into his arms, it was very Diesel, which was so much better. As they danced, Diesel whisper-sang about protecting her and not knowing the right words to say, bringing a lump to her throat. He held her tighter, his big body cocooning her, his heart beating against her cheek. She listened intently, not wanting to miss a single word as he sang about always being there, asking her to give him time to figure out what he could say that would make her fall for him, and singing about walking the world for her if that’s what it took. She didn’t know how he knew the song or if he’d found it just for her, but every single word was perfectly them.

She looked up at his handsome face, her knees weakening at the way he was looking at her as he sang. They weren’t doing a fancy dance, and she wasn’t in a pretty dress, but she couldn’t imagine a more perfect dance—or a more perfect man.

Chapter Fifteen

BEFORE AGREEING TO stick around and help the Whiskeys at the bar, Diesel hadn’t attended a child’s birthday party since he was a kid. The Whiskeys had been roping him into celebrating everything from birthdays to Valentine’s Day ever since. Kennedy and Lincoln’s party was one for the record books.