The reception's held at a banquet hall downtown, and by the time we arrive, the alcohol is already flowing. I down two glasses of champagne in quick succession while Lila poses for what feels like a thousand photos, and by the time dinner is served, I'm feeling pleasantly buzzed.
Rafe's seated at my table, and he leans over to murmur in my ear, "You look beautiful."
"You clean up pretty well yourself."
"I do my best," he says against my cheek before pressing a kiss there, and it makes my chest hum with affection. Two months ago, I never would've thought I'd have a plus-one for the wedding, let alone be helplessly in love with him too.
Dinner is a blur of toasts and laughter and stories about Lila and her new husband that make everyone at the table groan or cheer depending on the punchline. I keep catching Rafe's hand under the table, lacing my fingers through his, and he squeezes back every time.
When the dancing starts, I pull him out onto the floor. The DJ's playing something upbeat and ridiculous, and Rafe moves with a confidence that surprises me. He's not a great dancer, but he's not terrible either, and he spins me around until I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe.
"Where did you learn to dance?" I ask.
"I didn't. I'm making this up as I go."
"Well, you're doing a pretty good job."
"I have a good partner." He wags his eyebrows at me and spins me one more time. We dance through three more songs before I need a break, and I head to the bar for another drink. The bartender pours me a vodka cranberry, and I'm halfway through it when I feel a hand on my elbow.
I turn to see Detective Paul Hargrove standing beside me with a serious expression. He's dressed in a suit, his state trooper uniform traded for something more appropriate for a wedding, but he still looks every bit the cop.
"Miss Maddox," he says. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
I take another sip of my drink and nod. "Sure."
He guides me away from the bar toward a quieter corner of the room, and I can feel the alcohol making everything feel a little softer around the edges. I'm not drunk, but I'm close enough that I don't feel like being cautious.
"I wanted to check in with you," he says, "make sure everything is still okay."
"Everything's fine. Great, actually."
"And Mr. Ferretti? You're still seeing him?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I've been doing some digging, and I don't like what I've found… He's a dangerous man."
I lean against the wall and cross my arms. "We've been over this. I don't know anything about any of that. Rafe runs a pharmaceutical distribution company. That's it."
"Riley, I'm trying to help you. If you're involved with him, you're putting yourself at risk." Hargrove seems to fully believe what he's saying, that I'm in danger and that I should leave Rafe. It's sweet that he cares, but after tonight, I never have to see this man again.
I laugh, and I can hear the edge in it. "Maybe I'm the dangerous one. You never know."
He frowns. "This isn't a joke."
"I'm not joking." I push off the wall and pat his arm. "I appreciate your concern, Detective. I really do. But I'm in love with Rafe, so you can stop worrying about me and go enjoy the wedding."
I wink at him and turn away before he can respond, weaving through the crowd until I find Rafe standing near the edge of the dance floor. He's watching me, and I can tell by the look on his face that he saw the whole exchange.
"What was that about?" he asks when I reach him.
"Nothing. Just Detective Hargrove being a cop."
"He's still digging?" Rafe's eyes darken as he puts a hand in the small of my back protectively.
"Let him dig. He's not gonna find anything."
Rafe's expression darkens more. "Riley?—"
