"Maybe."
The word lingered in Tara's mind long after Lyon said it.
Maybe wasn't an answer. It was an escape. A way to stand in the middle of everything without committing to anything at all.
Typical Lyon.
Her grip tightened slightly around her glass as she forced her expression to remain neutral. Across the table, Dylan didn't look particularly impressed either, though he masked it better. His arm was still resting around her waist like a silent claim.
Tara exhaled slowly.
Of course Lyon wouldn't give a straight answer. He never had. He preferred ambiguity, control. He loved keeping people guessing while he stood there like he knew something they didn't.
God, she hated that.
And she hated even more that he still got under her skin so easily.
If Norah had told her earlier that he'd be here tonight, she would have come up with an excuse. Anything. Work. Fatigue. A headache.
Anything but this.
