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Cameron and I both shook our heads.
“It’s Jude… I can’t. He’s like my brother or something,” Cameron protested and took a big step back, hands up like she wouldn’t touch Jude with a twenty-foot pole.
“We’re getting married in a few weeks. I don’t need a bouquet to tell me I’m the next bride. There are wedding invitations that prove it.” I pointed to the engagement ring on my finger.
“This is your last chance to catch the bouquet. Are you sure you want to miss out?” Atley asked. The sparkle in his eyes and the crooked grin on his lips made me want to both kiss him and tickle him for punishment.
“Yes, very sure. People have shoved me onto more dance floors at more weddings than I want to remember. Frankly, I hate this song and this tradition. We’re not doing it at our wedding.”
“My queen has spoken. They stay here, you join the scrum.” Atley gently took Lara’s shoulders and steered her toward the dance floor. “For Jude’s sake, catch the bouquet and let the man keep his dignity. He’s sloshed.”
“Fine. I’ll do my best.” Lara shook her hips and raised her bare left hand up, dancing to my least favorite Beyonce song as she joined the crowd of women on the floor.
“Is Jude that bad off?” Cameron’s forehead wrinkled in concern.
“He’s not sober.” Atley wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close.
“Ladies, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” The DJ motioned for Wanda to stand at the edge of the stage. The music lowered. He turned her around so her back faced the dance floor. “Get ready, Wanda. Toss on three.”
“One!” the DJ and the crowd shouted.
Wanda bent her knees, getting low. The ladies on the dance floor elbowed for a better position.
“Two!”
Wanda took a few practice swings, raising and lowering the flowers over her head, her full skirt billowing as she swayed.
“Three!”
She let the bouquet fly. It arched up so high that I winced as it nearly skimmed the branding irons hanging from the chandelier. The whole room focused on the flowers as they rotated overhead, sailing past the grasping fingers of the singleladies. Past the first row of tables closest to the dance floor where friends and family sat.
Our collective breaths held, we watched in horror as the bouquet started its descent on target to splat into an untouched slice of cake on Oscar Ferguson’s plate. No one in this room deserved a face full of frosting more than that asshole. At the last possible instant, a long slender arm shot out. The woman’s one-handed catch could have earned her place on the Dallas Cowboys as a wide receiver.
“Nice save.” The DJ’s amplified voice broke the spell that had held the room frozen as the bouquet flew. Polite applause filled the room.
“Who is that?” I asked Atley.
“I think she works for Ferguson.”
With grace and solemnity rarely associated with the stupidity of the bouquet toss, the red-haired woman stood from her chair. She wore a sleeveless navy column dress that would have been appropriate anywhere from a boardroom to a ballroom. Its simple cut highlighted her generous curves and toned arms.
“She’s striking.” The woman had gravitas. She was regal.
“Personally, I prefer petite brunettes,” Atley whispered in my ear.
The woman marched from her place at the table to the dance floor like a soldier on a mission. She dropped the bouquet on the edge of the stage and dusted off her hands.
“Now it’s time for our new couple to share a dance.” The DJ started Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.”
The redhead didn’t appear inclined to dance. She turned to walk away from the spectacle she’d inadvertently stumbled into.
Jude blocked her path and swept the woman into his arms. She stumbled and tried to pull away, but Jude said something and she relented. I’d have given Jude ten hours of free consulting work to know what he’d said to change the womanfrom pissed off to resigned in one breath. They were a well-matched couple, both tall and important-looking. His steel gray hair and broad shoulders. Her elegant style.
Atley put his hand on the small of my back and we, along with a handful of other couples, joined Jude and the mystery woman on the dance floor. I relaxed, putting the bouquet drama out of my head. Atley was a talented dancer, and I loved being in his arms.
“How long are we staying?” he murmured in my ear. His voice had dropped to its deepest rumble. It made me think of tangled sheets and the first day we’d met.
“Until the bitter end. Remember, I’m in charge of all this.” Otherwise, I’d be taking him up on whatever he was about to offer.
