Page 9 of Jilted

I smiled. “It doesn’t require it. But Piper’s family is close with the head of the company that owns the magazine I work for, so I thought I should be amenable when she demanded it. I usually just attend the event and write about it for the magazine. We cover one wedding a month with a six-page story. Elijah, the guy with me, is the photographer. We’re sort of a team. I also run the magazine’s social media and YouTube channel, so our jobs go hand in hand.”

“I guess you should be lucky she didn’t paint you orange.”

I covered my smile with my hand. “Theydidlook orange when they went outside for the pictures, didn’t they?”

“With those purple dresses, it was like ten Violet Beauregardes who ate Oompa Loompas.”

I laughed. “Your honesty is amusing when it’s not directed at me.”

His eyes dropped to my lips. “I like it when you smile.”

My guard was slipping down too fast for my liking, so I rounded the conversation back to work. “Sometimes I use a quote from a guest in my write-up. Would you like to give me one?”

He smiled. “That’s probably not a good idea if your boss is a friend of the bride’s family.”

“True.”

“Is your boss a jerk or something that you felt like you had to go the extra mile for the bride?”

“No, at least not that I know of. He’s more of my boss’s boss’s boss. I don’t really know him, other than to find him a little intimidating because of who he is and the way he talks. He’s very direct.”

Wilder smiled. “I know the type.” He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

The tequila had gone to my head, so I figuredwhy not? I gulped back the rest of my glass and set it on the bar. “Fuck it. Okay.”

He chuckled. “Don’t sound so excited.”

Wilder led me out to the dance floor. He took one of my hands in his, wrapped the other around my waist, and tugged me close. I looked up at him.

“What?”

“The polite thing to do when you dance with someone you barely know is to leave room for Jesus.”

His lip twitched. “What?”

“I went to an all-girls Catholic school. A few times a year we had these dances where we could invite boys, and that’s what the chaperones would say if they noticed our bodies touching—leave room for Jesus.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m cutting Jesus out of this one. You feel too good to leave an inch.”

That might be the first thing we’d agreed on. Wilder’s body felt pretty damn amazing. Not surprisingly, he knew how to dance. The way he held me was bold, and his steps kept perfect time with the music, leaving my brain to think aboutother thingshe’d probably be good at. He had me in such a tight clutch, I had to crane my neck to pull back enough to look at him while I spoke. “When do you fly back to England?”

“The day after tomorrow. Will you miss me?”

“About as much as you’ll miss me.”

He smiled. “So heaps then.”

Heaps.

He twirled us around. “Tell me, Sloane. What would you be doing tonight if you weren’t here working?”

“I’d probably be helping my brothers at the bar.”

“Not out with a boyfriend?”

I frowned. “Not anymore.”

“It sounds like there’s a story there.”

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