Page 8 of Wright Kind of Trouble

A slow smile came to my face.

I shouldn’t.

But oh, I was going to do it anyway.

3

Harley

“That right?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

I opened my mouth, prepared to give the long, sordid story of my father’s duplicity, when a cheer went up in the crowd.

Chase and I turned toward the barn doors, where Annie and Jordan appeared in all their glory. Her dress was resplendent—a princess cut that made her look like she’d stepped out of a storybook. Her long red tresses framing her face. Jordan was enraptured. His eyes only for his bride.

We clapped at their entrance. When I peeked a glance in Chase’s direction, I found his eyes on mine instead of the happy couple. My cheeks flushed again.

I wasn’t ready to walk away from him.

From whatever was happening right now.

Yet I had no other choice. Dinner was being served.

He just smiled at me. “Save me a dance, remember?”

“I said if you were lucky.”

His hand came to my wrist, and the contact sizzled. “Maybe luck is with me tonight.”

My heart stuttered in my chest as he headed to his seat. I followed him as he made his way across the room. I didn’t know what spell he’d cast over me, but it wove around me, knotting at the edges.

I found my seat, across the room from Chase, and listened with half an ear to my brothers and their dates. Nora and Eve sat on either side of West and Whitt and kept a happy rapport with the table. Dinner was slow and languid with a half-dozen toasts afterward. Everyone wanted to wish the couple the best.

Then came a series of wedding essentials. Nora plucked each off of a list and delivered them at the perfect moments—a first dance, cake cutting, bouquet toss.

Music shifted to something more up tempo, and I fell onto the dance floor with the rest of the girls. I’d purposely avoided it during the bouquet toss. No way was I going to be the next one married in this group. Screw that.

But the dancing was fun. It was my favorite part about going out on the weekends with my roommates. I’d hit a few frat parties first semester and promptly realized the only thing I liked about them was the dancing. The groping, drinking, and general aura of toxic masculinity were too much for me.

Still, I kept waiting for Chase to join us. But he’d disappeared at some point in the evening. I didn’t know where exactly he’d gone off to, but I couldn’t deny that I was disappointed.

The music slowed to a male pop ballad that had been all over the radio. Couples flooded the dance floor, and I slowly backed away with a sigh. No slow dancing for me.

A throat cleared. I jumped and whipped around to find Chase standing next to me.

He held his hand out like a prince in a romance novel. “I believe this dance is mine.”

My stomach flipped. “I believe it is.”

I put my hand into his and let him walk me back out onto the dance floor.

I slipped my hand up to his shoulder as my gaze moved to his. His smile grew as he wrapped his arm around my waist, splaying his large hand across the small of my back. Then, he tugged me in just a little closer, until our chests were nearly touching.

I inhaled sharply at the contact. Our eyes were still locked as we began to sway side to side. My vision tunneled to the two of us out on the dance floor, as if we were in a movie and the rest of the cast disappeared. Suddenly just us on the floor while I twirled in my Beetlejuice dress with a blond-headed prince who sent shivers down my entire body.

“Wasn’t sure you were actually going to dance,” I said.

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