Page 76 of The Wedding Run
I frown at him. Is it really so hard for me to relax?
The music changes to the upbeatIt’s a Beautiful Dayby Michael Bublé. Family and friends move tables and chairs to the far edges of the room so they can more fully ‘partay.’
“Come on,” Luke says. “Let’s join them.”
I’m startled by the invitation. “Aren’t we the help?”
“Not anymore,” he says.
“But I wasn’t officially invited,” I argue, even though it’s a delay tactic. I’m not sure I can handle dancing with Luke.
“I was invited. And now you’re my guest.” He takes my latte and sets it on a table. “You’re not going to say you don’t know how to dance, are you?”
“Actually, I’m pretty good.”
“Another challenge. Well then…” He leads me to the center of the gyrating guests.
At first, I feel conspicuous in the middle of everything. My preferred posture is against the wall, unnoticed and out of the way.
With a quick tug on my hand, Luke swings me around to face him and slides his hand along my waist, pulling me close. I can feel the warmth of his hand pressed against my lower back, guiding me, steady and firm—a hand I could lean into, a hand I could hold onto.
A smile curls his lips, tugging his mouth to one side as he softly brushes the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
“Foam,” he explains.
Flustered, I trip over his foot, but he catches me. Suddenly, our bodies are pressed up against each other.
“I’ve got you,” he says.
Does he? My heart flutters. I desperately want to believe.
In perfect rhythm with the music blasting from the speakers, he guides me around the dance floor, his gaze never leaving mine.
CHAPTER 39
Libby
With the bride and groom off to celebrate their honeymoon on a sun-drenched beach—not in Ohio—the wedding party, family, and guests scatter like leaves in a blustery spring breeze.
“Off to take a nap,” Luke jokes as he shuts the door behind the last guest.
“Not after all that caffeine.” Charlie moves much faster than the rest of us while stacking chairs.
Elle cleans up cake crumbs and eyes her sister suspiciously. “Did you have coffee?”
“Everyone was raving about the lattes, so I tried Libby’s. I’m fine. Maybe I should do this more often.”
Luke, Elle, Roxie, and I stare at her as if she had signed up to run five marathons.
“I better get her home soon,” Elle states, “before she crashes.”
“Good idea.” I move out of Charlie’s way. “I’ll be more careful where I leave my latte from now on.”
“It’s all good, all good,” Charlie mumbles to herself.
The rest of us return to our slower tasks. Luke scrubs the counter. Roxie sweeps up flower petals and birdseed fromthe floor. I gather used paper plates and plastic forks. Charlie finishes stacking chairs and starts hauling trash bags to the alley.
When The Brew no longer resembles an explosion of sugar and flowers, I collapse into a chair with my iPad and double-check the final list.
