Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(78)

Parker’s wedding pass had been, by far, the least subtle ever. She’d been no sneaky coyote, no. More like a strike from a great white. Didn’t see it coming, was completely stunned.

Not that he’d complained.

This wedding, he acknowledged, was nicer than most. Parker and Vin had done a great job on the flowers; in fact, Maggie’s mouth had dropped open when she got out of the limo, and people couldn’t stop talking about how pretty everything looked. Every time he heard someone gushing, he felt a little rush of pride for his housemate.

And speaking of, she looked…perfect. Wearing a long blue dress cut low in the front and low in the back. Hair up in a twist. She wasn’t wearing shoes, and the sight of her toes peeping out from under the silky fabric was getting him a little aroused. Didn’t take much where she was concerned. Whether she wore that horrible Yankees cap and stained jeans or a gown, she was beautiful.

She was also avoiding him. She’d waved. He’d waved back. She seemed to be arming herself with babies; first Chantal’s fat little package, then a smaller baby, then one that could walk.

The bride herself appeared. “Jamie, you don’t have to stay glued behind the bar,” she said, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “Eat something! We can pour our own wine.”

“You sure look pretty, Maggie,” he said.

She smiled, and for a second, she looked exactly like the cute waitress he’d had a crush on way back when. “Thanks,” she answered. “But go. I’m the boss of today, right? Go eat something. Dance with someone. Parker, for example. Malone said you have a huge crush.”

James shot Malone a look. “Thanks, pal.”

Maggie leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you came up this summer.”

“No kissing other men,” Malone said. “Wife.”

“Oh, that’s right, we’re married,” Maggie said. “I forgot why I was wearing this white dress.” She slid her arms around Malone’s waist. “Go, James. I am queen and therefore dismiss you. Have fun. Oh, hang on, there’s Parker. Parker! Over here!”

“She’s really bossy,” James muttered to the groom.

“Ayuh,” he agreed.

Because Maggie was queen, Parker came over, and James felt his nerve endings do the now-familiar howl.

“Parker, these flowers are amazing! I can’t get over it!” Maggie said, hugging her.

“Thanks, Maggie. So glad you like everything.” She paused. “Hi, James.”

“Parker. Always lovely to see you,” he said. Her cheeks grew pink. James smiled. Used to be, he could only make her ears turn pink. Now he had the whole face. Progress.

“Oh, I love this song,” Maggie said. “Come on, Malone, let’s dance.” Malone grimaced—what straight guy wouldn’t—it was something by Beyoncé about all the single ladies.

“You have to obey her,” James said. “She’s the queen…”

“Thanks for nothing,” Malone muttered, following his wife as she dragged him onto the dance floor. Poor slob. Well, he wasn’t that poor. He was smiling.

James turned to Parker. Her blush deepened. “Did you have fun last night?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“You stayed at your uncle’s?”

“Yep.” She smelled so good. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” she answered, then cleared her throat. “You look very…um, nice to see you dressed.” She winced, closing her eyes. “Dressed up, I meant. In a suit. More like yourself. Whatever, don’t listen to me. Nice wedding, don’t you think?”

She was nervous; he could feel the electrical current radiating from her. She licked her lips—God—and the blood made the cheerful and familiar flight from James’s brain straight to his groin. “The flowers look great.”

“Thank you.”

Such pleasant chitchat, when what he really wanted to do was…her. Yeah. That was right. Just clear off this table and tip her back on it, and let nature do its sweet thing.

A lock of her hair slipped out of its twist, brushing against her cheek. James reached out and slowly tucked it behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her silken skin, touching her earlobe. Her lips parted. He looked in those green eyes, which had grown soft and unguarded, and felt his heart slow to thick, solid beats.

The Beyoncé song ended, and something slow came on. “Want to dance?” he murmured.

“Excuse me?” she whispered.

“Would you like to dance, Parker?”

She blinked and seemed to come out of the trance that had wrapped around them both. “Oh, I should— I have to check something. Um, rain check?”

“Okay.”

With that, she turned and fled, like a scared little horse or something, stopped and fussed with an arrangement, and glanced back at him, then looked quickly away.

James felt a smile begin in his chest. Parker was afraid of dancing with him. Had to be a good sign.

He looked over the guests. There were a couple of age-appropriate women there, giving him the coyote stare. Not today, ladies, he thought, and approached a tiny, ancient old lady who was looking at the group on the dance floor with a bit of longing on her face. Bingo. His date for the evening. “Would you do me a favor and dance with me?” he asked.