Page 95 of First Love, Second Draft

Mona:What if this turns out to be a huge mistake?

Grace:Then that will be their mistake to own. In the meantime let’s not make the mistake of not doing everything we can to support them.

Mona:I am being supportive!

Grace:You are being the very definition of supportive!

Mona:Thank you for supporting my supportiveness!

Grace:You’re welcome! You know who else I bet would be a very supportive support system at the wedding tomorrow? The guy you’re secretly dating.

Mona:Goodnight.

57

Even after sitting through the ceremony, Noah couldn’t believe it.

Matt. Married. To Rachel. In a week.

Noah shook his head. Crazy. Nuts. Insane. And pretty much just how Noah and Gracie had been back at their age. They hadn’t seen the merits of a long engagement either. But at least they’d made it a whole month before getting hitched.

One week!

A loud country song blasted across the five-thousand-square-foot barn serving as the reception hall. With fresh wood paneling and giant bay windows along the walls, white sheer fabric floating across the open ceiling beams, and three round rustic chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling, the place held a magical glow. Certainly didn’t look like any barn Noah had ever stepped inside of before.

Apparently Mona had pulled every string she had to land the venue on such short notice. There’d been a brief—and chilly—ceremony outside beneath a pavilion next to a pond, followed by a long—and probably even chillier—photo session for Matt and Rachel all over the venue’s ten acres of property, ending now with a dance-the-night-away reception in the barn.

He caught Gracie watching him from the other side of their table. Or maybe she’d caught him. She glanced away, but he continued tostare. He’d barely seen her this week because of all the wedding craziness. But he was sure looking at her now.

And he couldn’t help thinking Matt had the right idea. Maybe it was time to get a little crazy and seize the day.

Noah rounded the table and reached out his hand. Wiggled his fingers. “C’mon, babe. It’s Matt’s wedding. We can’t just sit here all night without busting out any moves. And by moves I of course mean orthopedic-surgeon-approved moves.”

Gracie tightened her sparkly shawl around her bare shoulders as her lips twisted to the side in an attempt not to smile. “This isn’t really my type of music.”

“Don’t worry. I made a request. Next song is going to be right up your alley. Notice, by the way, how I got the expression right.”

This time her lips lifted in an undeniable smile. “Fine. But only because it’s Matt and Rachel’s wedding.”

She grabbed onto his hand and let her shawl fall onto the seat when she stood.

Noah weaved his fingers between hers and let out a low whistle. Piece of fabric should be burned for what it had been hiding all evening. Gracie’s dress hugged every blessed curve, shimmering a pretty shade of blue that reminded him of the ocean.

“Ready?” He led her onto the dance floor just as brass instruments started up with a swinging tune that was definitely not country.

She met his eyes and laughed. “Chattanooga Choo Choo.”

“Hey, you finally got it right,” he said with a smile as he dropped a hand to the curve of her hip, dancing slow because of her recent injuries—and also because shimmery ocean dresses made a man want to move slow. And close.

He pulled her in a little tighter than a song like “Chattanooga Choo Choo” probably required. But Gracie didn’t seem to mind as they slid right into their own tempo. Which was obviously a much different tempo than the one Matt and Rachel were keeping.

Matt grunted as he lifted Rachel. “Almost there.”

“Almost where? What are you doing, other than making soundslike you’re lifting a Buick again?” Rachel said, her feet hovering off the floor.

“I’m Patrick Swayze inDirty Dancing. I’m lifting you above my head. Oh, forget it,” Matt said, plopping her back to the floor, then immediately dipping her backwards and nearly onto her head. “There. Much better.”

“Maybe we should just stick to conga lines,” Rachel wheezed, her face turning red from all the blood rushing toward her head.

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