This wedding, though? Stress. Galore.
The Walkers were an old, rich family who liked to throw money around to prove how awesome they were, or whatever. They seemed determined to make sure the wedding or, at the very least, rehearsal dinner was a disaster.
It was no skin off my nose if the groomsmen screwed up their routine; I could only try my best to help them. My job was by far the easiest. But if Dill dropped the ball, or Blaze the plates, or Alec the dress…
The Walkers were vindictive enough to make sure our family business suffered if we didn’t pull this off without a hitch. No wonder my brothers were losing their minds trying to keep up with their demands.
I needed to blow off steam now, so I could go to family dinner tomorrow and hear my brothers’ latest horror stories, and not try to strangle the next groomsman I saw.
Something—I don’t know what—compelled me to look at the corner.
Wait. Was that…?
I squinted through the dim, flashing lights as the crowd opened up again and I got a look at the other side of the dance floor.
The man turned again and I grinned. Yes, it was Tom! I was glad to see the cute, geeky guy who had been so shy in his one-on-one lessons this afternoon.
Tom was frankly adorable—a strong jawline and pretty lips framed by smile lines. He wore rectangular glasses even here, where most guys put in contacts or went without, in order to seem sexier. I liked a man confident enough to wear glasses.
He looked like he was in his late thirties or early forties. Since Beth was a little younger than me, he’d either aged well or had her early. Not that I was doing detective work.
Family rule number one, after all: Don’t get involved with the wedding party. But that was more for people like Dill, who were instrumental to the success of the wedding.
Nobody would know if I flirted a little more than I should with the bride’s father.
Drawn toward Tom, I worked my way onto the dance floor, trying to stay out of sight and get a better look. I sipped my vodka soda, swaying on the spot as I tried not to stare too obviously.
True to his words earlier today, he was dancing close to the corner. Not quite in it, but he seemed like he wanted to shrink back at any moment.
I smiled as I noticed him suddenly bending his knees, bouncing down gently like I’d taught him to loosen the tension in his body. It made my heart swell, seeing him try.
Every now and then he’d look up and around hopefully. But when a guy looked in his direction, Tom stiffened up and stared down again.
It made my heart ache, seeing him missing all the opportunities that came his way. Given what I’d already picked up from him, I had the feeling he had no idea he was rejecting everyone at first glance. I wanted to swoop in and rescue him. There were guys trying to flirt with him right now, damnit!
Why did that make me feel a flare of heat in my chest? Because I was protective, and I wanted him to be safe and happy? That had to be it.
What a sweetheart. Tom clearly wanted to get better at flirting, dancing, and feeling himself, but something was holding him back. I wanted to get him out of his head and make him have a little bit of fun.
If I could earn his trust, maybe I could help him in more ways than one.
Tom downed his drink and looked around for a ledge to place the empty cup, then looked over toward the door and started moving that way.
I mirrored him by finishing my vodka and soda, then zigzagged to intercept him. I wound up standing right in front of the door, grinning as he tried to get around me without looking up.
“And where do you think you’re going, cutie?” I asked, pretending to be stern.
Tom’s eyes widened as his gaze finally met mine, and I saw the lightbulb of recognition. “Oh! Oh, um, hi,” he stuttered. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I mean, not that you shouldn’t be here. Or that I shouldn’t be here. Just I don’t come here often…”
He trailed off, looking like he regretted not having a drink in his hand, so I grinned. “Too self-conscious to dance? Sneaking out instead?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, clearing his throat as he scratched at his tight-fitting T-shirt. He looked so out of place, and not because of anything he was wearing. The dark blue jeans flattered him, and his black T-shirt showed off gorgeous arms and a cute, trim waist.
But Tom stood like he wanted to blend into the shadows.
“Well, can I buy you a drink, then?” I asked. I wasn’t about to let him talk himself out of enjoying himself this early in the evening.
Tom looked even more startled than when he’d first seen me. “You—you’re not here with someone?”
“Pfffft,” I snorted, making him laugh with surprise. “As if,” I winked. “Nobody can keep up with me.”
Tom’s smile wavered for a moment, and I held my breath. Had I just said the wrong thing?
But then he nodded once. “Okay.”
Yes! I beamed at him in victory and slung an arm around his shoulders, leading him away from the door. Along the way, I nodded an apology to the guys who’d been waiting to get through it while Tom stood there like a deer in the headlights.
Poor thing. I felt like I should pet him and wrap him up in blankets. Or chain him to me on the dance floor in order to make him have fun. Or chain him to me for other purposes…
Focus, Rusty.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
“Oh, gee, thanks,” Tom said, his brows lifting with surprise. “Um… a beer’s great.”
Once we had our drinks, I leaned next to Tom on the end of the bar furthest from the speaker. I looked him up and down. “You’re a handsome thing. Not feeling it? That’s a shame.”
“Thanks,” Tom muttered, but I caught his blush as he smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never feel like I fit in here.”
“None of us do, babe,” I told him with a wink. “Yet we all come here anyway. Looking for love, looking for company, looking for fun. Or just looking to dance.”
Tom nodded slowly as he looked across the crowd with something like envy written on his face. “It’s hard to be here when I don’t know anyone.”
I tutted and held out both my drink and my empty hand. “Gimme your phone.”
He exchanged my cup for his phone, and I typed my number in, then saved it as Rusty Super Gay Fairy Godmother.
“There,” I told him, taking back my drink. “Now text me before you forget.”
He squinted at the screen and then laughed, clearly spotting my saved name. A moment later, my pocket vibrated.
“Good,” I told him and beamed at him. “Now you have someone you know to come with. Enough talking, let’s dance.”
Tom groaned playfully, but he let me shove him toward the dance floor. He was solid, too—a nice double handful of man I could grab and pull close.
Okay, I probably shouldn’t put my hands on him as much as I did, but I couldn’t help myself. He was so freaking adorable, especially when I made him get all shy.
I looped my arms around him and shimmied to the beat, letting him copy a nice simple rhythm. This time, there was no appropriate distance to maintain, though. And I didn’t want to.
I’d felt the chemistry earlier, but like any good teacher, I’d ignored it. But here? Where Tom seemed so eager, yet so inexperienced, desperate for someone to show him how things were done? I wanted to show him everything.