Page 9 of Luck of the Draw

She grinned when she saw me. “I knew you had it in you.”

I rolled my eyes, then glanced around at the guests, not recognizing anyone, but then again, I didn’t exactly associate with a lot of people outside of Bad Luck Club, PTA meetings, and work. Then I realized who I was looking for—my mystery man. I told myself it was because we had to avoid him, but part of me knew better.

I leaned into Sam’s ear and whispered, “Whose wedding is this?”

She leaned back and muttered, “Hell if I know, but it seems like there’s a wedding here every Saturday night in the spring, so it was a safe bet.” She glanced around in awe. “If I ever get married again, I want it to be like this.”

I understood her sentiment. This section of the arboretum had been turned into something you’d see in a movie, but it wasn’t for me. I never planned to get married again, but if I did, it would be a private affair between me and a man who loved me so much he couldn’t take his eyes off me.

But I was never going to meet a man like that, so it was a moot point.

And the way my mind kept flitting to the ridiculously handsome stranger only proved I wasn’t done being foolish.

Thinking about him reminded me of our supposed mission. “How do you expect to find the shoes? Are you planning to go to lost and found?”

She laughed. “I don’t know yet, but I’m working on a plan.”

If her plan included catching the attention of several men, she was already succeeding, not that I was surprised. Samantha was beautiful with her bright blond hair and her clingy red dress that showed off her skinny waist and C-cup boobs. Plus she oozed confidence. She’d gone without it for so long, it was like once she’d taken a sip from her hidden well, she’d drunk it up in greedy gulps. But now I wondered if some of it was an act, if she was faking it until she made it.

I could use a bit of that myself.

She batted her eyes at a man further up in line, and he motioned for her to join him.

“Come on,” she said, reaching for my hand.

I held back. “I’m going to look around. Why don’t you get me something, and you’ll have a chance to talk to your new friend.”

“You could use a new friend, yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” I was nowhere close to evenwantinga new friend, but my traitorous mind conjured another image of the guard.

Great, Deeandra. Find the security guard so you can ogle him as he carts you to jail.I was losing it.

I walked away, planning to check out the area by the band, but there weren’t very many people and it would be too conspicuous. Instead, I wandered to the other side of the reception area, looking for the bridal party.

They were still in the amphitheater, taking photos, and my heart fell straight to my Target store flats.

My friend Blue was standing to the side, wearing a beautiful deep-blue gown and smiling with unabashed love at one of the groomsmen.

We had crashed the wedding of someone Iknew. Well, sort of. Blue’s boyfriend was Lee Buchanan, one of the four siblings who owned Buchanan Brewery, and his sister Georgie had just married their brewmaster, River Reeves.

I whirled around to run and tell Sam that we had to leaveright now—and ran straight into a wedding guest.

“I amsosorry,” I said, reaching out and grabbing her arm to steady her. And thank goodness I did. She looked to be in her seventies or eighties, despite the fact that she had bright pink hair and a pink dress covered in yellow daisies. Something about her was familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“That’s quite all right, dear,” she said. “You seem to be off-balance.”

I cringed. “Yeah, I spun around too quickly and—”

“Oh no,” she said, “not that. Your spirit.”

I stared at her, somehow on the verge of tears. A soft smile lit up her eyes and she reached her free hand to my cheek. “This isexactlywhere you need to be, my dear. If anyone gives you any trouble about crashing, you tell them you’re Dottie’s guest.”

I gasped. How did she know I was a crasher?

“Aunt Dottie!” a man called from the wedding party. “We need you for more photos.”

“Coming, dear,” she shouted down to him. Then she turned her attention back to me. “They already took tons of photos earlier, but they want more now.” She didn’t look irritated, though. If anything, she looked pleased. “Promise me that you won’t leave until after the goat dance, okay?”

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