Page 139 of Champagne Fizz

The contact of his skin—even innocently on my wrist—sends a fury of fireflies buzzing through my body. I make a small pained noise, and Simon drops his hand as quickly as he touched me.

“Sorry! Instinct—” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to—”

He steps away from me like he’s touched fire, and I’m not sure which bothers me more—how quickly my body reacted to him, or how quickly he retreated.

“It’s fine, Simon,” I say, trying to reassure him. “I’m not going to break.” I reach out and squeeze his upper arm, trying to make a point. Only, the fabric of his suit is soft, expensive soft, and I can feel his powerful muscles underneath it. “It—it’s not like we can’t shake hands or give each other a hug.”

Only, Lady Lada is awake and rumbling.

I force myself to keep my hand on his arm.

His thick gorgeous arm … that’s attached to his gorgeous body … that you’ve seen shirtless and—

I squeeze his arm tighter, needing to prove to him—and myself—that this isn’t a problem.

It’s not.

Single people hook up at weddings all the time,Lada says in the back of my head.D’you think Simon will help you take down the decorations tonight. Maybe he’ll stay extra late. Remember that first kiss you had late at night at Flambé?

I cough and drop my hand. “I should go check on Ned.”

“Of course,” Simon says, nodding awkwardly. “Oh, one more thing … before the reception, during cocktail hour, can you come find me in Flambé? I have—” He hesitates a moment and starts playing with his tie nervously.

I give him a curious squint. “Simon?”

“Just come find me.”

“Is everything alright?” I ask, my spidey senses prickling.

“Everything’s great. Perfect. Nothing’s wrong. I’d tell you if there was a problem. This isn’t about the wedding. Just—” Simon smooths out his tie, suddenly realizing he’s acting shifty. “Just come find me, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod.

“Good. Now go get your groom,” Simon prompts. “Everyone’s waiting forI do’sso they can get drunk.”

“Flaming drunk,” I chide, knowing there’s a whole display of goblets upstairs waiting to be set on fire.

“Exactly,” Simon agrees.

I scan the beach of guests and the tableau in front of me, but there’s no Ned. I know Olivia’s positioned by the pool and waiting for my cue to head down the aisle, but where’s my groom?

“Actually,” I say, getting a bad feeling in my gut, “whereisNed?”

Connor and Mason are standing next to the alter making jokes with one another. They just happen to be missing the most important person they’re responsible for making sure is standing next to them. I take a wide loop up to the front to avoid messing with the freshly combed sand and I discreetly get Connor’s attention.

“Where’s your brother?” I ask, gesturing to all the full seats and the sun that’s getting low in the sky.

Connor frowns. “He was right here.” He turns like he expects Ned to be right behind him.

“You lost the groom?”

“Uh—” Connor frowns, perplexed.

“He’s probably in the bathroom,” Mason interjects. “He mentioned feeling kind of nauseous.”

“I’m sorry, when was this?” I ask, piercing Mason with a look, and doing my best not to see whatever inappropriate pattern is printed on his button up.

“Down girl!” Mason sasses. “He’s been feeling woozy all day. Wedding jitters, that’s all. It’s not like Connor and I forced him to drink a Blue Hawaiian and he started blowing chunks.”

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