‘So desperate to get me to your room?’ I tease.
‘You have no idea. I was worried I’d leave a puddle on the chair during the speeches.’
‘I’d have cleaned it up for you,’ I whisper into her ear.
‘With your tongue, I hope?’ Her dirty words don’t help the half-baked baguette in my underpants. They knock me to full burn.
The song is romantic and smouldering. We dance together, her doing everything she can to keep me tenting my trousers, while I try my best to deflate it before anyone notices.
The way she laughs when I fail sends electricity rolling through me.
Her lips are soft when I capture them, tasting faintly of champagne.
The way she whimpers into my mouth has me dizzy.
The song ends, and we break apart, clapping along with the applause for the singer.
‘You ready for bed?’ she asks, voice low and teasing.
My pulse skips half a dozen beats. ‘I’m sure I could be persuaded.’
She traces her fingers along my collar. ‘I need to wee and then grab a bottle of fizz. Meet me at the staircase closest to my room?’
The crowd swallows her up, and half a dozen people stop her to chat on the way to the bathroom. No one bothers with me; I’m still a virtual stranger to them all.
I make my way toward the rear staircase, far less showy than the main one that Eddie pushed me down. The noise of the party dulls to a distant murmur as I loosen my tie and open my top button, taking a much-needed breather. As far as weddings went, I’d been to much worse. The Hamiltons certainly know how to party.
I wait.
And wait.
A thought hits me like a ten-ton truck. I’m no longer counting down to escape.
I’m willingly waiting for Maggie.
I shift my weight,glance back toward the ballroom, wishing I had a phone to check.
Maggie’s taking her sweet time.
Unless something’s happened to her…
A noise behind me has me spinning, my arms up to protect myself.
There’s a flutter of dark wings as Coffin flies past my head. I laugh, glad no one is there to see me near shit my pants at the family pet.
He drops something black at my feet.
I crouch to investigate, only to find a fat beetle, its legs in the air.
Poor thing must have had a terrible day. Using the toe of my shoe, I right the insect and watch as it scuttles off.
Coffin watches me with a tilt of his glossy head. He ruffles his feathers before tilting his good eye to watch the beetle depart. I hope I haven’t offended him by not eating it.
Are crows like cats?
Probably not.
But maybe?
