AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hi,” she finally says.
“Torin is Fiona’s brother,” Ami tells her.
I am definitely dancing with this woman. I extend my hand. “May I?”
She lifts a brow. Then glances at her empty glass and hands it to me. “Yes, thanks.”
I look from the glass to her, fighting a smile. She’s messing with me. Right? “I was…asking you to dance.”
Ami’s hand flies up to cover her mouth as she gives a little snort.
Abigail frowns at her sister, then looks back up at me. “Oh. Well, no thank you.”
She really thought I was asking to refill her drink.
I straighten. “Oh. You’re kind of ruining my attempt to come to your rescue by sweeping you dramatically out onto the dance floor.”
She looks confused. “Rescue me?”
“You don’t look like you’re having a good time over here,” I say honestly, shooting a quick wink at Ami.
She doesn’t look a bit offended. She’s clearly amused.
“You’ve been watching me?” Abigail asks, looking up again.
“Yes,” I tell her simply.
“Why?”
I decide to go for completely honest. “You’re a beautiful woman, which is what first caught my eye.” I smile. “You seem to be without a date, which kept my attention. You also seem to be…” I search for delicate words. “…in a bad mood. At a wedding. Even after taking…” I take in the glasses and plates on the table in front of her. “…at least a couple of shots and having cake. Which means it’s serious. We might have some similar sorrows to drown.”
She’s definitely had more than a couple of shots. And maybe even more than a couple pieces of cake.
“The hot, rich guy is having a bad night?” she asks.
I almost laugh. I don’t have to worry about wondering what she’s thinking. “Do you like my suit or my haircut? They’re both new.”
She nods. “Both are good.”
I tug on the lapels of my suit. “Thanks.”
Her gaze roams over me from head to toe. And I enjoy every single second of it.
I hold my hand out again. “Now you have to dance with me. You’re the only person I’ve talked to tonight who likes the hair.”
She glances at her sister again. Ami looks…surprised.
But then Abigail starts to reach out. So I pull my hand back. “Do you need those before we go?” I point to the table where the tan circles she pulled from the bodice of her dress lie.
“Oh, no. I never want those things to touch me ever again,” she tells me emphatically.
I fight another smile. “Are they what I think they are?”
“If you think they are stick-on bras, then yes,” she says, getting to her feet. Without taking my hand, by the way.
I grin. Damn, I like this girl. She’s fresh and surprising and there’s just…something about her. “You don’t need them?” I ask. All I really know about bras is that I like them off better than on. So those pads are fitting that criteria, I suppose.
She shakes her head. “I don’t. I mean, unless we’re going to jitterbug or something. Then things might get a little…bouncy.”
