“When Hugo came sauntering into the church, he looked like he’d been thrown under bus, but his eyes still had the same glimmer yours do. Putting two and two together, I gathered you two young’uns had an enjoyable night.”
My cheeks get a rush of heat to them.
“I knew it!” she declares loudly when she sees my flushed expression.
Peering down at the thick gold band on her translucent-skinned hand, she spins the band around her wedding ring finger. “You should consider yourself lucky. My first too-drunk- to-remember encounter saw me waking up married to a stranger.”
My eyes bulge. “Oh, wow. Did you get the marriage annulled?” I ask, not bothering to disclose my encounter with Hugo wasn’t a drunken mistake.
“Heavens no,” she says as her eyes get a sheen of gloss over them. “A blessed sixty-five years of marriage I had to my darling Henry.”
I smile at the adorable shimmer in her eyes.
Her lips thin. “Don’t let my happiness deceive you,” she adds on, noticing my smile. “I gave my husband hell for months! Only once he proved his worth did I let him back into my bed.”
The tears in her eyes dry and a new rascally glimmer forms in them. “That was a hard feat, as that boy knew how to shake the sheets. But by treating him mean, I kept him keen.”
A genuine smile tugs my lips high. I don’t know if you can legally adopt a grandmother, but if you can, I’m claiming this one.
She pats my knee. “Give him hell, sweetie. The meaner, the better.”
My focus diverts from Mrs. Mable when a dark shadow envelopes the white cotton tablecloth. I don’t need to lift my eyes to know who is standing before me. His woodsy smell gives it away.
Exhaling a nerve-eradicating breath, I raise my eyes to Hugo. He has removed his tuxedo jacket, and his bowtie has been unknotted and is hanging around his neck. Even with a heavy groove indented between his eyes, he looks scrumptiously delicious.
His eyes flick between mine for several heart-thrashing seconds before he asks, “Can we talk?” gesturing his head to the foyer at the front of the ballroom.
He tries to mask the nervousness in his voice, but the fast pace of his pulse bulging the veins in his neck hampers his deep tone. Although anger has never been a mood I can hold for long, today is an exception to that rule. Because it’s not just anger I’m harboring, it is downright fury.
“No.” My reply is swift and precise.
Hugo balks before staring at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. His eyes drift to Mrs. Mable as he crouches down in front of me. He tilts in close to my side, vainly trying to get a small skerrick of privacy in a room filled with hundreds of wedding attendees. The hairs in my nose tingle when the heavy scent of the alcohol on his breath filters through my nostril.
“Please, Ava,” he mutters, staring into my eyes. “We need to talk.”
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I shake my head. “We havenothingto discuss.”
Mrs. Mable’s hand shoots out to pat my knee, encouraging my take-no-prisoners stance that’s slipping from my grasp with every second I glance into Hugo’s glistening baby blues.
The hairs on the nape of my neck prickle when the warmth of Hugo’s breath flutters my earlobe as he says, “You either come with me willingly or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here, kicking and screaming.”
My mouth gapes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
My heart beats double-time when a boyish grin etches onto his sinful mouth. “I’ve never backed away from a dare, Ava; today is not going to be any different.”
I huff and strengthen my stance. When I turn my eyes to look at anything but Hugo’s sinfully gorgeous face, I realize our little spectacle has gained us the attention of a handful of eyes, including Mrs. Marshall.
“You have to the count of three, Ava,” Hugo warns. “One, two--”
“What am I, five years old?” I retaliate, turning my eyes back to his.
“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like a child.”
My mouth forms an O as my face reddens with anger. Before any response can escape my lips, the wedding MC announces it is time for the bridal waltz. I inwardly sigh, grateful for the distraction. My pleasure doesn’t last long when the MC requests the attendance of the wedding party to dance alongside the bride and groom.
A grin carves on Hugo’s mouth as he stands from his crouched position and cocks his elbow. “May I have this dance?”
Even with my insides quivering from the seductiveness in his tone, I don’t allow my outer-shell to exhibit my excitement. The rugged grin on his face vanishes when I stand from my chair, sidestep him, and storm towards the dance floor. I only manage to hit the edge of the mahogany floor before Hugo’s long strides catch up to me.
