Page 21 of The Pucking Wrong Man

The feeling only worsened when I frantically glanced down at the program again and flipped through the pages. Past the cloggers, past the jazzers, right there to the finale. But then my stomach dropped when I realized…it didn’t list her name.

“Well, I’ve lost fifty dollars,” Geraldine muttered as the lights went on in the auditorium.

“What?” I asked, distracted as I glanced around the room, trying to figure out how to get backstage without actually jumping on top of the stage to get there.

“Maisy swore you’d fall for one of the ballet gals. But I had you pegged for the cloggers, personally.”

That was enough to finally get my attention as I turned to stare at her incredulously.

She smirked and gave me two finger guns, and honestly, I couldn’t have been more confused. “Gotcha! You think I’d ever bet on cloggers?” she huffed. “I knew it was ballet all the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think I didn’t see you shooting those bedroom eyes at the stage like a damn fool that entire last dance?”

“I will never doubt you again,” I said wryly.

I couldn’t even argue with her or tell her she was imagining things. I was gone. Destroyed. Shows over. Lights out. She was the one.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Geraldine scoffed, straightening her sweater and fixing her glasses before she looped an arm through mine. “Let’s go get your girl.”

“Right now?” I asked, an edge of panic riding me hard all of a sudden. Did I look okay? This wasn’t even my nicest suit.

“You look like a studmuffin of the highest order,” she said with a scoff, starting to drag me out the doors, through the throngs of people clearing out of their seats. She really was freakishly strong for a woman her age.

But also...could she read my mind?

I glanced back at the stage. The lights had been dimmed, the curtains pulled forward. There were no dancers anywhere to be seen. “We’re going the wrong way,” I said, my panic worsening as I contemplated scooping her up so we could get back to the stage faster.

“Men,” Geraldine said, shaking her head as she continued to walk away from where I wanted to go. “She’s not going to be backstage. She’s going to be at the after party. And your very hot date happens to have passes.”

I could have kissed her.

“Passes? You have passes for us?” I asked, sounding a little crazed. I took the lead, hurrying her forward, vowing to make sure that Ari Lancaster never found out that I was using my seventy-five-year-old neighbor to pick up the future mother of my children. Geraldine would brag about it for sure if she got the chance. “I’m never doubting you again.”

We were ushered out of the theater, but instead of streaming out the front door with the throngs of people, we veered left, where there was another set of double doors, actual security guards posted outside of them, like a horde of fans were going to try and rush the doors to meet the cloggers.

I frowned, on second thought, maybe there wasn’t enough security. That angel on the stage probably had rabid fans stalking her everywhere.

I would know, I was about to become one of them.

“Step aside, gentlemen. Geraldine is in the house,” she pronounced, lifting her chin in the air like she was royalty and holding up her passes.

They stepped aside, giving me a look like they suspected I was about to abscond with one of their dancers.

Hopefully I didn’t look like a kidnapper in this suit. I glanced down with a frown again, wishing I’d had more time to prepare.

But was there ever enough time to prepare for the love of your life?

Stopping in my tracks, I took a deep breath. What. The. Fuck.

I pulled Geraldine to the side. “Hit me with your cane,” I told her, sounding as crazy as I felt.

“What?”

“Hit me with your cane, Geraldine Burton. I’ve lost my mind.”

She snickered, completely ignoring the fact that I was going through a life crisis. “Come on, lover boy.”

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