Page 100 of Love Lessons
He makes a happy, sexy noise and pushes me up against a door. I lean back, tilting my chin up so he can kiss me even more deeply.
We spend the next several minutes reminding ourselves how good it always was between us. And why we should stay together. It turns out that having a spark with someone is a big deal, and I’d been a fool to ignore that idea. Kissing Ian is like coming home.
Until someone clears her throat. “Excuse us for a moment? You two are blocking the door.”
We break apart. My knees feel a little weak, and I’m trying to catch my breath as I notice the elegant woman in the big white dress who’s interrupted us. And the handsome man in the tuxedo beside her.
Oh God. It’s the bride and groom. “Sorry!” I gasp. “And congratulations?”
Ian still hasn’t snapped out of it. He’s looking at me with lusty eyes that swing ever so slowly towards the other couple. “Oops. Sorry, Jackie. This is Vera. Vera, meet Jackie and my cousin Carson. We were just…” His eyes come back to me again, making an appreciative sweep of my body.
“Glad to see you haven’t changed much, Ian,” the bride says. But her voice isn’t mean—it’s completely amused. “Still as inappropriate as always. But I really need to get through that door. They can’t serve the meal until we show up. You’re starving my guests right now, basically.”
Ian and I look at each other, and then we both turn at the same time to look at the door. The one we were blocking while we made out like teenagers.
Oh my God.
“Welp, all right,” Ian says. His lips twitch as he wraps an arm around my waist and sweeps me aside. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
The groom buries a smile, too. He reaches past his wife and pulls the door open. “Tell you what—why don’t you two take a seat? Just let the wedding planner know we’re ready.”
“Sure!” I say brightly. “Will do!” With my hand clasped around Ian’s, I pull him towards the open door. “Nice to meet you both!”
“Likewise,” the bride says with a smile. “And that’s agreatdress.”
“Thanks!” I say, my smile pasted on. “Yours too! Love the portrait neckline. And that beading is top notch.”
Ian propels my chattering self through the door. A wedding planner waits inside with her clipboard, looking aggravated. “What’s the holdup?” she asks.
“Not a thing. They’re ready for you,” Ian says. He leads me past her and across a large room full of guests seated at circular tables.
Every single one of them is staring at us, but Ian seems not to notice. He actually whistles as he leads me to a table against the windows. There are two empty seats, and Ian pulls out a chair for me with a flourish. “My lady.”
I sit down, and Ian takes the seat beside me. Not two seconds later, a man with a microphone steps onto a little bandstand in the corner. “May I present Jaqueline and Carson Crikey McNeely!”
The room erupts into applause, and we all stand to clap for the bride and groom. Ian’s ex and her new husband stride into the room hand in hand as the band plays a jazzy tune.
Everyone takes their seats again as waiters appear from the kitchen with trays of salad. All the wedding guests start talking at once.
Except at our table, where everyone is staring at me, wondering where I came from.
Two of the people gaping at us can only be Ian’s parents. His mother recovers first. “My goodness. Ian, did your date make it after all? Or did you coerce a volunteer you found wandering the property?”
“Mom,” Ian snorts. “Be nice. It’s not Vera’s fault that I’m a hot mess. Vera, these are my parents, Evan and Jillian. They’re a little uptight today, but they’re mostly cool.”
“Hello,” I say with a quick smile.
“Hello, dear. And I’mnotuptight,” his mother says. Then she winces. “Much.”
Ian roars. He leans back in his seat and wraps an arm around me. “I love you anyway, Mom.”
A salad lands in front of me, and another one lands in front of Ian. He plucks a bread basket off a passing tray and hands it to me first. “Good timing on your arrival. Right before the food. That’s usually my trick.”
“What a lovely dress,” Ian’s mother says. “Wherever did you find it?”
“Vera is a stylist,” Ian says, buttering a roll. “She shopped her way across Italy. Professionally, of course.”
“And Switzerland,” I admit. “That’s where I found this dress.”
