Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“How are you keeping the roast beef warm?” I asked a white-uniformed member of the catering team.
“I have no idea. I’m just a server.”
My anxiety about dried-out roast beef and cold potatoes was coming in hot.
“But did they tent the meat after they cooked it?” I asked.
I got a blank look in response.
“Okay, do you happen to know where Tom is?”
The head of the catering team could put my mind at ease. I’d given him specific written instructions, but it was always good to double-check.
“Never mind on that,” a deep voice said from next to me.
I looked up to find Holt giving me an amused look, one brow arched.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m under strict instructions from the bride not to let you oversee any aspect of the food.”
I laughed lightly. “Well, I’m not really overseeing. I just want to check on a few things.”
He shrugged, feigning innocence. “I don’t argue with brides on their wedding day. I was told to hand you a glass of champagne and make sure you don’t do anything but enjoy yourself.”
The server left, and I accepted the glass Holt passed me.
“That’s a check on the champagne,” I said. “Now, how will I go about enjoying myself?”
The devilish look in his eyes gave me butterflies.
“I can think of a few ideas,” he said in a low tone.
“Oh?” I looked around. “Where are the kids?”
“They left with my folks after the ceremony. For some reason, they think wedding receptions are boring.”
I laughed. “It sounds like they might have gotten that idea from their dad.”
“I mean, some wedding receptions are boring,” he said, shrugging.
“Don’t you love the long wait for the bride and groom to finish their photos and arrive? Everyone’s eating peanuts and grumbling under their breath while pretending they don’t care.”
“Love that part.”
“I made sure the servers would be walking around with appetizers while we waited. So you can thank me for overseeing that when you’re eating a sausage on a stick.”
He nudged me gently with his shoulder. “I’m gonna go ahead and plead guilty to having a one-track mind before I tell you I’d much rather watch you eat a sausage on a stick.”
“I haven’t eaten anything today, so you’ll be seeing that very soon.”
“Excellent.”
I was about to ask Holt if he wanted to come with me to say hello to my parents when Keller Strauss approached us, his gaze locked firmly on me.
“Shea, you look lovely,” he said.
“Thanks.”
I willed Grady and Avon to walk through the door immediately because an encounter between Holt and Keller wasn’t likely to end well.
“Holt,” Keller said, nodding at him.
“Keller.”
“Can I get you a drink?” Keller asked me.
“She has a drink,” Holt said.
Keller grinned at Holt like he was a pesky kid. “I meant a non-complimentary drink.”
“Okay.” Holt glanced away, clearing his throat. “Nice to see you, Keller. Enjoy the reception.”
The two men just stared at each other, Keller not accepting the cue to walk away. I tipped back the last of the champagne and set my glass down.
“Really beautiful day for a wedding, isn’t it?” I said. “Oh, here come the appetizers! Who’s hungry?”
A server stopped and we all took fruit skewers and tiny sausages.
“Can we have the wedding party meet up outside?” the DJ asked. “It’s almost time for the bride and groom to make their first entrance as Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Grady!”
“Shall we?” Holt offered me his arm.
I took it and we walked away, Keller fuming at the man he’d partnered with to build the youth hockey arena.
This was one wedding reception that would not be boring.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Holt
I was done stealing the occasional glance at Shea. There was only one woman in this whole place I wanted to look at, and I wanted to look openly.
Even out on the dance floor doing the chicken dance with the other bridesmaids, she was glowing with happiness. This was the way she’d been on our weekend away—carefree and full of laughter.
Once again, I beat Keller to Shea when the song ended, giving her a questioning look. She smiled and put her arm around my neck, letting me pull her against me with an arm around her waist.
I really needed to tip the DJ for every slow song he played. Three to four minutes of having Shea in my arms, all to myself, was heaven on earth.
“Not a chicken dancer?” she asked in a teasing tone.
“Not when I can watch you chicken dance instead.”
She laughed. “I haven’t done that in years.”
“I think you’re incredible.”
She arched her brows in amusement. “At the chicken dance?”
“At everything.”
Her expression shifted, her gaze softening. “Likewise.”
“Shea, can I have a word?”
I looked over and found Keller looking at Shea. He had brass balls. I had to give him that.
“No,” I answered for her. “She’s busy.”
He gave me an irritated glance. “Why don’t you let her answer for herself?”