Page 4 of Shielded Hearts

Sudden applause broke out as the newlyweds took the floor for their first dance as man and wife.

Colt walked straight to the bar and poured himself a whiskey. If Oaks required him to dance, he would need the bottle.

He tossed back the shot just as a familiar hoot sounded from the crowd. Without turning, he knew that sound came from his kid sister Willow.

Now, if anyone was in their element, it was Willow. People, fancy clothes and music. Three things that often got her in trouble with guys and usually sent any of her six brothers to hunt down her boyfriend-of-the-month and threaten to remove his front teeth in a variety of ways.

He scanned the crowd and saw Willow on the dance floor with the rest of the wedding party. Hell. Was he required to get out there now, before the alcohol even hit his system?

His brother Denver appeared at his side and bumped his shoulder against Colt’s.

Around the burn of the second shot of whiskey he tossed down his throat, Colt grunted. “Punk. Just because you’re back from the dead doesn’t mean a thing. You’re still my little brother.”

Denver was assigned to a SEAL team that was so deep ops nobody knew any of them were even alive. Including their families.

When Colt got the news that Denver was dead, he’d been gutted. He also had a lot of time on his hands—time to dig up information about Denver’s team. In the process of finding out exactly how his brother died, he discovered he wasn’t dead at all.

Denver tossed him a crooked grin. “Lighten up, best man. Get out there and bust a move.”

“Why don’t you go dance?”

Denver’s lips twitched at one corner. “It’s not required of me.”

At that moment, the travel agent started toward the bar. She saw Colt, turned around and headed back the way she came.

Dammit. He needed to get her out of here. Oaks and Shiloh deserved the best day, and that didn’t include offering the travel agent fish or beef.

With a low groan, he shot Denver a dirty look. “I’m going to dance.”

“Good luck, bro.” Denver grabbed the bottle that Colt had just poured from and brought it to his lips.

Colt made his way around a group of people gathered with drinks in hand, talking. He caught up to the travel agent and curled his hand around her shoulder.

She whipped around. When she saw it was him, she started to shake her head, but he grabbed her wrist and towed her onto the dance floor.

As soon as he placed a hand on her waist and felt her smooth skin slipping underneath that dress that was the color of pines on the mountain—and incidentally her eyes—he forced a sigh through his nostrils.

She blinked up at him in shock. “Wait—we’re dancing?”

“Well, you crashed my brother’s wedding and were even inallthe group photos. Don’t you think that dancing is required?” He cocked a brow.

She let out a low sound like a moan. Over the music of what had to be the longest first dance in the history of weddings, he couldn’t be sure.

“I don’t dance with the brothers of my clients,” she said.

“Today you’re breaking that rule.”

“I liked it better when we were just emailing each other.”

“Do you deliver portfolios to all your clients?”

“No.” She tilted her jaw upward. “Only for premiere honeymoons.”

“Well as I said, this visit could have been another email when you sent me the honeymoon itinerary and tickets for my brother and his wife,” he bit off.

All of a sudden, the musicians ended the song, and music projected from the big speakers the deejay had set up in the opposite corner.

Oh fuck no. It was one of those group dances.Cupid Shuffle.

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