Page 12 of Maggie

Chapter 6

Maggie

Three years later

Maggie watched as the man with spiky brown hair and beard sat at a nearby table and laughed at something another wedding reception guest said. Who was that guy? He looked familiar.

Maybe he was friends with the groom. He sat at the table hosting the couple’s closest friends so that would make sense. She didn’t know the couple’s friends well. Hell, she didn’t know the couple well.

Maggie nursed her wine and glanced around the faces at her assigned table. Her dad and stepmom, plus aunts and uncles from her stepmom’s side of the family, surrounded her. Everyone chatted happily. The family of the bride. Her stepsister’s happy day.

While the ceremony and reception were beautiful, exhaustion wore at Maggie and made her want to be curled up in a cozy hotel bed with a bag of gummy bears while HGTV played mindlessly. She suffered from insomnia and doubted she’d get much sleep, but that was still relaxation at its finest. She wouldn’t take a sleeping pill since she had to be on a plane early.

Maggie sat her wine glass down and tugged at the cuff of her green, long-sleeved dress. She only wore it because her step sister had asked, and she found it uncomfortable. She wasn’t close with the bride — Maggie’s stepsister of only a few years through her dad and stepmom — and attended out of family obligation. Maggie could suffer through a few hours of wearing an uncomfortable dress to keep the peace. Maggie couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to take it off. She had to be back on a plane in the morning so she could fly across the country for tomorrow’s performance, and she was dying to relax first. She brushed her fingers over her long, dark hair.

“Oh, dearie, when are you getting married? You’ve sown your wild oats enough, don’t you think?” Great-Aunt Prudence said. The woman was about 100 years old and wore an old-fashioned frilly blue dress. Her reputation as the invasive, inappropriate relative preceded her.

Maggie opened her mouth to respond, but someone asked over her shoulder, “May I have this dance?”

Her heart skipped when she turned to see the handsome man she’d watched all afternoon standing behind her. He looked sharp in his suit. He smiled and extended a hand. She noticed a small white scar in his eyebrow. His intense hazel eyes seemed to absorb everything about her. Why did those eyes look so familiar?

“Sure.” She placed her palm in his and thought she felt a spark of electricity when their skin touched. She quickly brushed that off as her imagination. His fingers tightened around her hand, and she stood from her chair.

He guided her to the dance floor.

“May I?” He gestured that he’d like to hold her.

She nodded.

He pulled her close, and they wrapped their arms around each other to slow dance. Their bodies melted together and his warmth surrounded her. They danced to the music.

Maybe it was the wine or maybe she was delirious from being tired, but everything about this guy made her comfortable. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. Maggie didn’t even know his name, but she didn’t care. He felt good.

“This is nice,” she said.

He pressed his hand against the back of her head and held her against his chest.

“Agreed. You smell good,” he said. “I mean that in the least creepy way possible.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s probably my shampoo. Coconut.”

“That’s definitely it.” He pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled. “It’s great.”

“I’m glad you like. Thank you for saving me back there.”

He chuckled. “My pleasure.”

They continued to dance in comfortable silence for a while before he asked, “Are you with the bride or the groom?”

“Bride,” she murmured. “You?”

“Groom. We were roommates in college.”

“Stepsister of the bride.”

“Awesome.” He paused. “Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?”

She chuckled. “I thought the same thing about you.”

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