“That’s what he gets for challenging a woman who considers vodka a food group,” I say, and Jayson laughs into his beer.
“Right?” Maren giggles. “So will you do it? Take over MC duties for the rest of the night?”
“Of course,” I say without hesitation. “You know I love having everyone’s attention. It’s my natural habitat.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Maren laughs. “Okay, I should keep making the rounds. The first dance is in ten minutes and I still need to say hi to half these people. You’re a lifesaver, Lark. Seriously.”
“Go be a bride,” I tell her, waving her away. “I’ve got this handled.”
She heads back toward Calvin, Laila bounding alongside her like a fluffy shadow. Calvin’s face transforms the second he sees her, going from polite wedding smile to absolutely besotted in half a second. He immediately pulls her close, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh and swat at his chest.
I glance over at Jack again without meaning to. Becca has lost his attention. He’s crouched down now, talking to little Chloe, Theo’s six-year-old daughter. She’s showing him something on her tablet, pointing at the screen excitedly, and he’s giving her his complete focus.
Huh. That’s unexpectedly sweet.
“I’ll catch you later, Jayson,” I say, giving him a little wave. “Duty calls.”
“Go make us proud,” he replies with a salute. “Remember, Eleanor and the Romance Raiders are counting on you.”
I laugh and weave through the crowd toward the makeshift stage area. The night has fully settled in now, string lights glowing overhead and casting everything in a warm, golden haze. The DJ’s professional setup is impressive, all polished equipment and carefully placed uplighting that makes the whole reception area look like something out of a magazine.
I’m adjusting my dress and mentally preparing myself for announcing duties when I spot him. Jack Midnight, having left Chloe with Theo, is heading straight for the stage.
Oh, hell no.
The last thing Maren and Calvin need is the wild Midnight brother hijacking their wedding reception with whatever chaos he has planned. I pick up my pace, my heels clicking against the temporary flooring as I angle to cut him off. We reach the base of the steps at the same time, nearly colliding.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, blocking his path with my body.
He looks equally confused, his brows drawing together before his expression shifts to something more playful. “What the hell areyoudoing here?” he asks with no bite, eyes dancing flirtatiously.
Not a chance, buddy.
“Maren asked me to take over for Brett, who is at present puking his guts out after challenging Eleanor to a drinking contest,” I explain, planting my hands on my hips in what I hope is my most authoritative stance. “She specifically asked me to handle the announcing.”
“Huh.” He tilts his head, seeming to consider this. “Well, I don’t know anything about that. All I know is Calvin pulled me aside about ten minutes ago and asked if I could MC since Brett was out of commission.” He shrugs, all easy confidence. “Figured it was my brotherly duty to step up.”
He takes a step closer, and I catch a hint of his cologne. Something expensive and annoyingly distracting.
“So don’t you worry about it, Lark.” The way he says my name, like we’re old friends or something, makes my spine stiffen. “I can take care of this. You should go enjoy the party.” He even has the audacity to wink.
“Uh uh. No way.” I shake my head firmly. “Maren asked me first, and bride trumps groom. That’s wedding law.”
“Since when does bride trump groom?” he asks, leaning his forearm against the stage railing like he’s settling in for a debate. He looks more amused than annoyed, which is somehowinfinitely more irritating. “Last I checked, it wastheirwedding. Equal partnership and all that.”
“Since always,” I insist, narrowing my eyes and poking him in the chest with my index finger. His chest is surprisingly solid under the suit. Not that I’m noticing. “And besides, the last thing this wedding needs is you giving speeches. I’ve heard the stories about your toast at Theo’s wedding. Something about a stripper and a fire extinguisher? This is aclassyevent, Midnight.”
“Lark, you wound me.” He places both hands over his heart like I’ve shot him. “I’m the picture of a gentleman. A paragon of virtue and good behavior.”
He looks anything but. Tall and dark and dangerous, with those green eyes that shift between playful and intense in seconds. The definition of trouble wrapped in an expensive suit. The kind of guy who promises motorcycle rides and adventure and heartbreak.
“You’re impossible,” I say. The situation is too ridiculous. “Okay, here’s how this is going to go. We’re doing it together, and absolutely no funny business. Got it? No inappropriate jokes, no embarrassing stories about Calvin’s college years, or so help me I will knee you right in the balls on that stage in front of everyone.”
He laughs, and dimples appear in his cheeks.Unfair.
“Fair enough,” he says. “I don’t want to end up on your bad side. As I recall, you’re pretty dangerous in the gym. Those right hooks of yours are legendary at Midnight Fitness.”
I snort. Last year when I’d twisted my ankle during boxing class, Jack had been in town training at his brother’s gym. He’d helped me out to my car, then insisted on following me to urgent care when I couldn’t put weight on it. He’d been so unexpectedly gentle, making stupid jokes the whole way to keep me from freaking out about whether I’d broken it. Not what I’d expected from Dark River’s wild child.
