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He stands up just before I reach him.
His tall, broad frame is a little leaner up close. “Hello,” he says and takes my hand. He presses a kiss to it and offers me a seat by pulling the one next to him out.
Holy Father. If this is how they make men in Europe, then I was born in the wrong place. Because this man is straight out of one of those fairy tales that I never believed in because I never saw a girl like me in one of them.
“Thank you,” I say demurely, the flutter in my stomach turning to a vibration as I plant myself in the offered chair.
“You’re welcome,” he says noncommittally and then just watches me. That trace of wariness grows as he observes me.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” I ask.
“I don’t dance,” he says shortly.
“Oh. Okay,” I say with a grimace of shame when he doesn’t speak. I feel a surge of mortification when I realize that I have, in fact, been too presumptuous.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say. I wish I could snap my fingers and make myself disappear. “I thought … maybe when we saw each other earlier on the elevator … that you seemed interested. I’m sorry. I’ll just ...” I start to stand up and pray I can run in these stupid shoes that I spent too much money on. I want to cry. I scrape my chair back and he grabs my wrist.
“No, don’t go. I’m glad you came.” His voice is deep and smooth like the molasses in my grandmother’s gingerbread cookies. And he’s American, too.
Thank you, God, I mouth down to my lap before I look up and smile.
“My mouth is good for a lot of things … small talk just isn’t one of them,” he says, gaze smoldering and yet so relaxed. I’m so startled by the innuendo that a bubble of laughter escapes me. I cover my mouth with my hand. He reaches over to stroke the back of my hand and then circles my wrist. He tugs my hand away from my mouth. “Your smile is beautiful.”
“Oh, my …” I sigh and my stomach does a summersault. I can’t believe this is happening. He’ s actually into me.
He gives me a small, quick smile that I feel a surge of pride at having pulled it out of him.
“So, you’re in business?”
“That’s cute,” he says quietly and takes a sip of his drink.
“Huh?”
“No, I’m just an ordinary man.” His glass hovers in front of his lips and he watches me out of hooded eyes.
“There’s nothing ordinary about you,” I say and stick my hand out, “I should introduce myself. I’m Confidence Ryan, and I don’t really know the bride or the groom, but I’m my friend Cass’s plus one,” I say.
“Your name is Confidence?” he asks, perplexed.
“I know, it’s kind of weird at first. But I promise once you get used to it, you’ll see it’s actually a really great name,” I assure him.
“No, not weird at all. Hayes Rivers,” he says without any other detail. Not that I need any more for what I’m hoping is going to happen. But, his smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
“I love that name. Is it a family name?” I ask.
His smile dims slightly. “No,” he says shortly.
“Well, my parents named my siblings and me after things they hoped we’d grow up to possess. I definitely lucked out. My siblings are named Happiness and Fortune,” I tell him and then wish a hole would open up and put me out of my misery.
Why am I not better at flirting?
It’s his turn to laugh, and he says, “Now, that is a great line.” He shakes his head. “Can you imagine if people actually gave their children names like that?” he asks and I cringe. Hard.
He stops laughing. “Oh …”
“Yeah,” I say slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, real contrition in his eyes
