Page 11 of Can't Fight the Moonlight

"Yes. She told me when you feel the rhythm, you gotta move."

He laughed, those words ringing a very familiar bell. "She used to tell me that, too. In fact, she's the first girl I ever danced with. She made me dance with her before the ninth-grade dance. She wanted to get me ready. I couldn't get out of that lesson no matter how hard I tried." He actually hadn't tried that hard, because he'd been nervous about the dance, and the lesson had been a good distraction. It had also made him feel less alone at a time when he was spending many days and evenings by himself. Of course, things had gotten a lot worse after that. His smile faded as less happy memories filled his head.

"That must have been a sweet moment," Lizzie said. "My dad was my first dance partner. I was ten and there was a father-daughter dance at school. I remember thinking how special I felt to have his attention on me. I was the youngest of five kids, so I didn't often have that. He was a terrible dancer, though," she added with a laugh. "Nowhere near as good as your grandmother."

"I don't think I thought she was that good when I was fourteen, but she had a lot of enthusiasm. I wasn't any good, either."

"I'm sure you've improved since then. You'll get to show me some of your moves on Saturday night as there will be dancing after the vow renewal ceremony."

He groaned. "Really, dancing? It's starting to sound like a full-blown wedding reception. I thought it was supposed to be a simple ceremony."

"It's small, but I wouldn't say it's simple. There will be a few dozen people, maybe more."

"Wait. What? Who's coming?" He really did not want to hear his parents' names.

"Do you know Vanessa and Roger Holt? Your grandparents met the Holts at the inn when they were here in February. The Holts are in their early seventies, and Roger and your grandfather bonded over watching golf while the ladies enjoyed a day shopping. They've apparently stayed in touch since then.

"Fine, that's two. Who else?"

"Carlos and Gretchen Rodriguez are also coming. They met your grandparents here at the inn last fall, and I think they took a trip to Florida at Christmas together. Some of the locals in town will be coming. Your grandparents have been very friendly on their trips here, and I encourage a lot of mingling at the inn. It's part of the experience. You'll see."

"I don't think so. I don't need any more friends."

"You can't have too many friends."

"You can have enough," he countered.

"I disagree. I've made some amazing friendships with some of my guests. I'm actually going to be a bridesmaid in a wedding for a couple who had their romantic getaway weekend at the inn last year. They had a bit of a tiff and I helped them work it out."

"So, you're a marriage counselor, too?" he asked dryly.

"I told you—I wear a lot of hats," she said with a grin.

"Is that the inn?" he asked, as a large four-story manor set in a circle of trees and beautiful landscaped grounds came into the view. The house was Victorian in architecture with a round tower on one side, big bay windows, and a large wrap-around porch. There was a circular drive in front of the manor, with a sparkling fountain sitting on a diamond of grass. A small parking lot was adjacent to the main building, and there appeared to be a barn-like structure behind the manor, maybe a garage or a second unit.

"That's it," Lizzie said, flinging him a proud smile. "Every time I see it, I get a little thrill that it's mine."

"You have some land."

"It's an acre and a half. I hope one day to expand and add some small private cabins, but that's way down the road."

"This must have been a huge investment."

"The biggest one I've ever made. Fortunately, I have some backers who believe in me. I can't let them down."

The fierce note was back in her voice. He had a feeling she would fight to the end, and that kind of determination resonated deep within him. Failure wasn't an option for him, either.

"At any rate," she continued. "Your fun is about to begin. I hope you're ready."

He found himself smiling back, even though fun wasn't really on his agenda. But maybe it should be, especially if Lizzie was going to be part of that fun. She was a very pretty woman with her messy ponytail, irresistible smile and laughing green eyes. She had the kind of gaze that drew you in and wouldn't let you go. He frowned at that thought and forced himself to look away from her. It was then he saw the police car out front.

An officer was talking to an older couple. The dark-haired woman had on black leggings and a long sweater. The gray-haired man was dressed in brown slacks and a white button-down shirt. The man appeared to be in handcuffs.

"Damn!" Lizzie exclaimed, braking so fast, he had to put his hand on the dashboard to brace himself once more. "Sorry," she threw out, as she jumped out of the truck and jogged over to the group.

He couldn't help but follow, more than a little curious as to what was going on. The older gentleman didn't look like a typical criminal. Maybe it was a domestic dispute.

"He was lingering outside my room when I went out shopping," the woman told Lizzie. "And when I came back, he was standing right outside my door again. I think he was trying to get in."

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