Page 31 of The Wedding Run
I yelp. “What was that for?”
She drops the dish towel. "Company’s coming,” she says, scooping it up. “I assumed you started the water fiasco."
“That would be me,” Libby confesses.
Her gaze flickers in my direction, and I feel heat spiral through me.
Shaking her head, Mom mutters, “Two peas in a pod.”
I haul Libby’s suitcase to Sophia’s bedroom, then hurry off to my childhood room. After stripping off my soaked clothes, I rifle through T-shirts that no longer fit and find a pair of khakis in the closet. But they’re from high school. No way those are working. I grew five inches during my freshman year at UGA. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I pad down the well-worn carpet to the laundry room and toss my clothes in the dryer.
“Everything okay, Luke?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
“Looking for a shirt.”
“And pants,” she says, taking in my state of undress. “Try under your bed.”
I jog toward my bedroom, eager to put some clothes on.
CHAPTER 14
Libby
In the bathroom, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy towel. The foggy mirror reflects a blurry image. I don’t appear as tired as I thought I would. Laughter, I’ve always heard, is good for the soul. Perhaps there hasn’t been enough laughter in my life lately.
My sisters and I have our own ways of coping with life’s challenges. Maybe Elle’s way is best, as she loves to laugh. Or maybe it’s all the sugar she consumes with her cake business. She’s the baby of the family, the outgoing one, and often the troublemaker. Charlie, however, struggles with anxiety. The impact of our mother’s death may have affected her more than it did the rest of us. I cope with my many lists.
Which I should have made before I showered. Glancing around the lavender-decorated bathroom, I realize I left my clean, dry clothes in the bedroom.Drat.
Someone hollers in the hallway. Luke, I reckon. Cautiously, I peer out.
“Check under your bed!” Stacy calls from the kitchen.
I close the bathroom door, listening for footsteps, a ticking clock, or some indication that I'm free and clear to go down thehall for my clothes. I hear nothing. Clasping the doorknob, I turn it and?—
Footsteps pass outside in the hallway. I wait again, counting... One. Two. Three. I imagine Luke rounding the corner. Four. Five. Six. Bypassing his room. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
I open the door and peer out, looking one way and then the other. All clear. Holding my towel in place, I dart out, sprinting for the bedroom. Halfway there, I remember the wet clothes I left on the bathroom floor. See, I really do need lists.
Clutching the towel around me, I hurry and scoop up the wet clothing, then rush?—
Right into a solid wall of muscle.
CHAPTER 15
Luke
“Whoa,” I grunt, my arms folding around Libby reflexively.
She’s naked. In my arms. And… okay, not completely naked. She’s wearing a towel. Like me.
We tilt this way and that, stumbling, wobbling, and shuffling to regain our balance. It’s an awkward dance.
“Sorry. I—” The rest of my words are swallowed by my sudden hyper-awareness of her.
“You’re in a towel,” she says, her voice high-pitched. “Why are you in a towel?”
“I was looking for clothes."
