CHAPTER 5
***
Eisley
Beau swings me around the dance floor with the ease of a trained dancer. I’m not as savvy on my toes as he is, but I manage to keep up. He peppers my forehead with kisses when we slow dance and keeps me laughing when the obligatory chicken dance begins to play. I’m breathless and head over heels in...love, lust, or something in between.
“I’m curious. Why haven’t I met you before now?” Beau asks as we leave the dance floor for a quick thirst quencher. “I know most of the local restaurant owners around town. But you, you’re a conundrum.”
“A conundrum?” I take a sip of pale pink punch, enjoying the watermelon and lime bite as it goes down. “What about you? Do you keep tabs on everyone in town? You did quite a bit of schmoozing at the holiday party.”
Beau smirks. It’s a handsome, boyish grin with dimples in all the right places. It should be against the law for anyone to look as sexy and charming as he does. I’d bet there are a dozen or more women in this room salivating over him right now.
A twinge of reckless satisfaction settles in the pit of my stomach. No matter how many women have their eyes on him, his eyes are on me. His attention boosts my confidence. I usually have to remind myself to be bold or funny, but it comes so easily with Beau. All my thinking is focused on him–and that sexy mouth of his.
“I like to keep my thumb on the pulse of the community, especially when things impact local restaurants.” Beau focuses on my eyes, nose, and mouth to the point my skin tingles.
“So, you’re a politician?” He certainly has a knack for turning on the charm and working a crowd. I bet he’s kissed a few babies, too.
“Hell, no.” Beau shakes his head emphatically. “But I stay up to speed on new trends and changes in government policies concerning food and restaurants. I own Sapphire Bakehouse in the heart of downtown.”
My heart pinches. Beau feels the pressure of City Hall, too. As if he couldn’t get any better. “You’re a chef?”
“Please join Tom and Grace for one last dance before they ride off into the sunset,” the deejay announces. “Save the Last Dance for Me,” by Michael Bublé, begins to play.
“I am. I’ve got an idea.” Beau takes my glass and sets it aside before taking my hand. “Let’s dance. I’ll see Tom and Grace off, and then we can geek out on foodie talk over coffee afterward.”
“Ooh. I love it when you talk nerdy to me.” I giggle as we step onto the dance floor.
“I’m a man of action, Eisley.” Beau’s eyes darken, sending my tummy into a full-blown butterfly-fest. He pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead, whispering so low only I can hear. “If you’d rather skip right to dirty, I’m happy to oblige.”
***
Beau
The wedding planner taps my shoulder midway through the last dance of the night. She clings to her clipboard, her face pale and stricken. Eisley and I stop dancing as we’re pulled to the edge of the dance floor.
“We have a problem.” Her lips tighten into a knot, and her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath. “The limo driver just arrived, and he’s–” She looks side to side before dipping her head and leaning close to my ear. “He’s drunk. I need a driver.”
Eisley’s eyes widen, raising her brows high on her forehead. She bites her bottom lip and looks around without so much as moving a hair on her head. Her eyes fall on Tom and Grace, two lovebirds oblivious to the wrench we’re about to throw into their plans.
“Can the service send someone else out?” Surely, someone’s on call.
“No.” The wedding planner checks her list. “It’s too late. They’ll miss their flight if we don’t stay on schedule.”
“What about Kent?” Any hope of coffee or something extra with Eisley tonight begins to dwindle as soon as the woman shakes her head.
“Nope. He’s having a discussion,” she enunciates the word disapprovingly, “with one of the bridesmaids. She’s quite upset with him.”
“I’ll do it.” My shoulders sink, but duty before pleasure. I can’t let friends down on their wedding day, even if that means I’ll miss another opportunity with Eisley.
“It’s okay. We’re here to save the day, right?” Eisley squeezes my arm and then gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a long day, and I need to pack up my things anyway.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.” I manage a smile but no longer feel as festive or hopeful as I did moments ago.
We exchange phones and type in our respective numbers as the wedding planner impatiently taps her pen on the clipboard. My phone buzzes and lights up with a text from a new number labeled Nice Buns. I swipe for the text and chuckle.
Wanted to make sure you remembered me.– Eisley
How could I ever forget?