Page 92 of Playboy

It only takes a minute to spot him. He’s leaning against a door to one side of the exit, his black suit tailored perfectly, accenting his forever impressive physique, his attention fully on me.

The smolder he wears has my entire body heating. “Dream girl,” he mouths. He brings a fist to his chest. “Fucking perfect.”

I tilt to one side and tell Noah I’ll be back, but he’s frozen, his face ashen, his attention locked on the front of the room where Beckett is talking to Gavin, Liv, and Sienna.

Beckett has a possessive arm wrapped around Liv, as always. Gavin is grinning from ear to ear. Sienna, the youngest Langfield, and the most fashionable, is smiling brightly as she regales the three of them with a story that probably has to do with her work in the fashion industry in Paris.

I squeeze Noah’s arm. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows audibly, and with a shake of his head, he finally looks away from the group. “Might have.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m going to splash some water on my face.”

“I’ve got her.” Daniel appears at my side, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

Noah nods and disappears without another word.

“He’s acting weird,” I say as I watch him bolt from the room.

“Weddings tend to affect people in one of two ways,” Daniel says, holding out his arm.

I take it and let him lead me up the aisle and toward a wall of windows that overlooks the ocean and the dazzling sunset.

“Really?”

“Yes. Some people get stuck on the what-ifs. What if I’d settled down? What if I missed out on the one? What if I married the wrong person?”

I hiss out a dramatic breath. “Scandalous.”

He smiles. “And others latch on to the maybe.MaybeI’ll meet someone tonight. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe Ishouldpropose.”

I turn to face him, the windows at my back. “And what kind of person are you?”

His brown eyes twinkle. “I’m definitely a maybe guy.”

A thrill zips through me. “Are you?”

He nods and leans down. “Absolutely.”

“And what’s your maybe?”

“Maybe I should ask my dream girl to dance. Maybe she’ll let me hold her hand tonight. Maybe I could kiss her in front of all our friends.”

Arms draped over his shoulders, I pull him close, my lips a breath from his. “There’s only one problem with your theory.”

He closes his eyes like he’s relishing the closeness. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“I’m neither of those.”

He smiles, his lips brushing mine as he does. “And what are you?”

I press my mouth to his, my tongue seeking his. Grabbing his hair for purchase, I deepen the kiss, licking and sucking, making it clear to every person here that Daniel is all mine.

Our friends break into cheers just as I knew they would. But this way, it’s on my terms and not the least bit awkward. We’re breathless and panting when we finally pull apart.

“I’m a doer, Baby Hall. I’m in this. So take me out onto that dance floor. There’s no maybe about it: you’re coming home with me tonight.”

CALLIOPE’S COLUMN

August

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