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“Oh.” Abby giggles as she moves to stand next to her husband. “From across the terrace, it looked like you were about to be my brother-in-law.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Abs.” Carrie’s laugh is stuttered and forced. “We barely know each other.”
That’s a fact that I intend to change starting tonight.
“We’re going to cut the cake.” Abby wraps her arm around Declan’s bicep. “Then, it’s first dance time. Carrie, you have to dance with Sean during the second dance because it’s tradition for the best man and the maid of honor.”
“Right,” Carrie answers with a brisk nod.
“After that, you’re free to dance with whoever you choose.” Abby’s gaze flicks over my face.
If that’s silent code for dance with my sister, I’ve already got that penciled in my to-do list for tonight.
“I’ll dance with her,” Telford offers in a monotone voice. “She’s not a half-bad dancer.”
Carrie swats his shoulder. “Thanks? That kind of sounded like an insult.”
“It was a compliment,” he tells her as he adjusts the collar of his shirt. “One dance, and then I need to get home. I have an epic proposal to plan.”
Everyone starts toward a circular table that is holding a wedding cake.
I hang back slightly, watching the way the skirt of Carrie’s dress sways as she walks.
“The third dance is mine,” I whisper to myself. “I can’t fucking wait.”
It was a hard pass on the third dance because there’s no goddamn way I’m acting like a chicken in public.
There are too many phones pointed at the dance floor right now as the all too familiar wedding favorite blasts out of a series of speakers set up on the terrace.
I thought Declan would spring for a band, but he told me his bride wanted a DJ to play all her favorites. If this instrumental ode to poultry made it on Abby’s all-time list of great tunes to dance to, she needs to expand her playlist.
Although, Kirby is a fan of the song, too, and I admit, I’ve danced to it a time or two with my daughter, but that was in my apartment, far from anyone else.
“You’re not dancing,” a faint voice says behind me.
My job is all about detail, so I already know who is talking to me. It’s the woman that I’ve had my eyes glued to since I kind of proposed to her.
“Neither are you.” I spin around to face Carrie.
She nudges her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I can’t flap my arms like a chicken’s wings in this dress.”
So let’s go somewhere where I can take the damn thing off of you.
I keep those words to myself because I have yet to get a signal from this gorgeous woman that she’s interested in the same things I am.
Kissing, fucking, repeating those two again and again until morning.
She glances past me as the song seamlessly leads into another with an even faster tempo. “Abby and Declan are really happy.”
“They are. Marriage agrees with both of them.”
Her chest heaves with a sigh. I have to put in some concerted effort to keep my gaze from dropping to the top of her tits. Carrie Gilbert is all lush curves and, from this vantage point, soft skin. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on every inch of her.
“Have you ever been married?” I ask to keep the conversation from veering too quickly into what I want to do to her.
She laughs nervously. “Me? No, I haven’t even…”
Her hand darts to her mouth, hovering over her pink lips. “I mean, no.”
