Curtis stood as she moved from the mic, blocking her path and sliding one arm lightly around her waist. “I want to hear you hiccup. Think I’m going to make that my mission for later. One of my missions.”
Not, “good speech” or “thanks for not fucking up the reception.” Nothing predictable like that. Of course not. But mesmerizing and sexy in an entirely Curtis way? Oh hell yes.
He released his hold on her—though in fact, he’d barely touched her—and returned to his seat. Six-plus feet of sexy dressed-to-kill man winked up at her and motioned sideways with his head. “Nia’s waiting for you.”
The bride. Right. The reason Sara was decked out in pink and bling. How easily he’d distracted her. All the mushy-gushy, touchy-feely stuff was making her soft. Thank god it was almost over.
“Sara.” Face to face, Nia clasped their hands together. “I wasn’t expecting a speech like that.”
Shit. She should have copied one of the samples from the internet and dubbed in appropriate names for the placeholders. Even with the best of intentions, she’d managed to screw up.
“It was the most special gift you could have given me.” Nia pulled her into a hug so close, Sara had no choice but to melt into the embrace.
“Does that mean I can return the programmable Crock-Pot and get my seventy-five bucks back?”
“No way,” Nia said, laughing as they separated. “I’ve been waiting for that Crock-Pot since I put it on the registry list.”
“Fine. You can have the speech and the slow cooker. But I expect lots of free dinners where I’m not required to spill my guts.”
“Deal.”
The DJ commandeered the mic to outline the remaining itinerary for the reception. Sara didn’t hear a word of it. Her pulse still pounded in her ears, gradually receding as the stress ebbed. Nia loved the speech. Sara hadn’t ruined the day. Or the evening. She was in the homestretch, the hard parts were over.
“Thanks for the welcome,” Conn said, while hugging his wife. “Means a lot.”
“Just speaking the truth, like I always do.”
Conn chuckled. “Yeah, I know. That’s why it means a lot.” He’d never minced words, or his feelings, with Sara.
Anybody that did that without being an asshole deserved props. Now that she’d given them, time to get back to business as usual.
“Don’t you have a dance to lead or something? The sooner you get on that,” she motioned at her pink cocktail dress, “the sooner I can take this thing off.”
“Now there’s a plan.” Curtis’ voice wrapped around her from behind. Not a physical caress as Conn had given Nia, but it may as well have been. His presence in her personal space made goose bumps rise on her arms as if he’d trailed his hands over her bare skin.
Nia’s wide-eyed gaze flitted back and forth from Sara’s face to Curtis, positioned close behind her. Nia being Nia, her expression hid nothing. Curiosity first, followed by a healthy dose of approval.
Shit. The last thing Sara needed was Nia getting it in her head that coupledom was on the horizon. That it was even a possibility.
“Go.” She leaned forward and gave Nia a gentle poke below the ring of Conn’s embrace. “Dance and be nauseatingly romantic for the waiting voyeuristic masses.”
“Your cheeks are a bit red. Sara Robinson, are you embarrassed?
“Pfft. It’s a million degrees in here. Didn’t you pay for air-conditioning?”
The true source of all that heat chuckled near her ear.
Nia’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Okay, we’re going. But don’t even think about disappearing to the ladies’ room after we walk away, because you two are up next. See you out there.”
Shit, the wedding-party dance. She’d successfully repressed that little detail. “You know, it’s really not fair to Lindsay if Curtis and I join the fun, since she doesn’t have an usher to dance with.”
“You’re concerned about my feelings?” Lindsay asked, butting in from several feet away, where she’d obviously been eavesdropping. “Gosh, Sara, I’m touched. But don’t you worry, I have a dance partner lined up, so we’re all good to go.”
“What a relief.” Sara clapped her palm over her heart.
“Of course you’d have known that if you tuned in to a channel other than your own.”
Seriously? This was when Lindsay wanted to have it out? And in front of Nia, no less?
Smart man that he was, Conn steered Nia out of the impending battle zone.
Curtis cupped the sides of Sara’s waist. His big, hard body pressed against her back as he turned her away from his sister. And trouble. “Lindsay’s had one too many glasses of wine,” he said, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Be a good girl and walk away.”
“Now you want me to be good? I thought you wanted me to be very, very bad.”
“Oh, I do. And you will be. Later.”
“Pretty presumptuous, lawman.”
“Part of why you like me.”
“Also presumptuous. I never said I like you.”
He chuckled near her ear, the deep rumble sending a ripple of heat straight to her core. “You just gave me another mission.”
They reached the edge of the dance floor as the DJ welcomed Mr. and Mrs. Lawler to their first dance as husband and wife.
“You want to be a Mrs. Somebody one day?”
“Hell no.” Marriage was about love, and love was about pain. She’d had enough of that.
Applause rose and faded within seconds. All eyes were on the beautiful woman in the white dress and her tall, dark and handsome hubby. All eyes including Sara’s.
When Just a Kiss by Lady Antebellum started and Conn took Nia in his arms, everything else in the room fell away. They were magic. A living, breathing depiction of true love. Of a fairytale.
“They look good.”
Sara nodded at Curtis’ quietly spoken words. “Yeah.”
“How long do you give them?”
“Until death.” At his grunt, she tore her eyes from the dance floor to glare up at him. “You disagree? If you have reason to believe Conn will hurt Nia down the road—”
“Nothing like that. Not the other way around either. They’re locked in—for now. But in five to ten years…who knows? You said it yourself in the speech. Real life isn’t like some bullshit romance movie. It’s overtime shifts, clogged toilets and sports on the TV.” He shrugged. “The honeymoon ends eventually and reality sets in. It disappoints. People move on.”
“Wow. Pessimist much?”
“And you’re not?”
“Not about this.” She believed in people loving each other for as long as they had. It was fate, or the universe’s grand plan, or whatever you wanted to call it, that she didn’t trust.
“Let’s have the wedding party join the bride and groom on the floor.” The DJ’s voice overrode the music.
Curtis snagged her arm. “That’s us, princess.”
Curtis
“Don’t call me that,” she growled as he half-dragged her across the parquet. “You don’t get to call me that.”