Page 47 of The Wedding Deal
“Oh, he’s plenty grumpy still. I drive him crazy.”
“Yes, you do, but in a good way.”
“I’m not sure that’s a thing,” Charlotte said with a laugh, but Stacy nodded, her mini-veil bobbing with the movement.
“It is. And you can’t disagree with a bride before her wedding—it’s a rule.”
“Well, I am a rule follower.”
Stacy gave her a sloppy grin. “Good. You know, ever since Lance’s last girlfriend cheated on him, he hasn’t dated at all. That and the injury turned him into a hermit, and Maribelle’s been so worried about him. I told her that when the right girl came along, he’d get it together.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. Everyone was getting the wrong idea—hell, even she was. Earlier today he’d listened to her, and they’d had a great afternoon, getting a ton of work done and culling down their list to their top picks for several positions.
“I’m not disagreeing with the bride-to-be, per se,” Charlotte started, “but you should know that Lance and I aren’t a couple. We just work together.”
“Okay, but then why is he striding over here like he’s coming to claim you?”
Charlotte whipped around. She thought Stacy would laugh about how she’d proved her point by pretending Lance was at the club, and how fast Charlotte had turned to check.
But there he was, striding toward her exactly like she’d said, and even as she told herself it wasn’t a big deal and the rest of the guys were heading their way as well, a thrill shivered up her core.
His gaze was predatory, and her flight instinct should really be kicking in about now.
But if she was in fact his prey, she couldn’t even pretend that she didn’t want to be caught.
Chapter Seventeen
Lance glared at the vultures who’d been circling, adding an extra glower at the dude who’d been ogling Charlotte’s legs.
Not that he could blame him, but those werehislegs to ogle.
Rational thought had fled the instant he’d seen her on the floor, dancing and laughing, and he didn’t even care if his brother gave him shit.
Finally he reached her, and his hand automatically went to her hip. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I was thinking the same about you,” she said, her voice slightly breathless from the dancing. Her cheeks were flushed, too, and holy shit she was beautiful.
He glanced around at the gyrating bodies and felt completely out of place. This was what he got for charging without thinking. He jerked his chin in the direction of the bar. “Wanna grab a drink?”
Before Charlotte could answer, Stacy gave her a firm shove, hard enough Charlotte wobbled and gripped on to his arms for support.
“Have fun, you two,” she said with a grin. He’d have to thank her later.
Still, he waited to make sure Charlotte was on board with the plan to grab a drink with him instead of tossing her over his shoulder like the caveman she’d turned him into. He raised an eyebrow, and the tiny groove in her cheek came out as she nodded. “A drink sounds good.”
He took hold of her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the push and pull of the moving crowd, and an electric current twisted up his arm as she laced her fingers with his.
Once they reached the bar, he ordered a whiskey neat and turned to get her order.
“The same for me,” she said to the bartender.
He couldn’t keep the surprise off his face.
“When in Rome,” she said with a shrug. “Also, whiskey was what my dad always kept in the house, and sometimes when friends came over, we’d break into his stash, so it’s my go-to when I want something with a kick.”
“Underage drinking?” He gasped. “You broke some rules?”
“Back in the day.” She reached for the tumbler the bartender slid across the bar and tipped it back in one big gulp. “Speaking of the rules”—she lowered her voice into flirtatious territory as she batted her dark eyelashes at him—“your hand is in danger of breaking section three of the handbook, Mr. Quaid.”
