I walk away, searching for Holly, unable to handle another minute near this nonsense. I find her hiding behind a huge wisteria tree, pretending to organize glassware. I hover beside her, looking like any other guest, sipping on my delicious coffee and swaying to the beat of the band’s instrumental jazz intermission.
“I hate that you’re right about Virginia and her granddaddy,” I reluctantly admit. “And who the hell calls Atlanta the Peach City? Is that a Junior League thing?”
“She can call it whatever she wants,” Holly replies, discreetly passing me one of the earbuds on her headset so I can listen in. “Hate to say I told you so, but that woman is our golden ticket,” she gloats. “The universe is definitely out to help us.”
Holly taps her index finger against the screen of her tablet, keeping track of multiple schedules at once, and a guest list of six hundred.
“You’re like a professional juggler,” I observe, nodding toward her tablet.
She tilts her head sideways in confusion, eyebrows raised in aWhat the heck is that supposed to mean?expression.
“Relax,” I exclaim. “It’s a compliment. Maybe you should consider going on your own.” I gesture at the reception unfoldingbefore us. “Plan events, weddings and such. Work for yourself. Maybe even have your own team.”
Holly stares back at me, a glint in her green eyes. “You really think I could do it?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I nod without hesitation. “You’re in your element, Holly.”
She pauses, considering. “Yeah, but starting a business takes money in the bank and great networks,” she debates. “And that disgusting man”—she gestures toward Griggs—“will demolish both for me unless this plan works.”
Virginia squeals through Tripp’s mic, drawing back our attention.
“So let’s focus on one grand scheme at a time,” Holly says, surprising me once again with her sagacious practicality and intense focus.
“Granddaddy, I told Trippy about the club’s famous course,” we hear Virginia exclaim. “I’m sure he’d love to play a round with you three.”
“Yeah? You up for a round?” Griggs asks Tripp. “Think you can drag your ass out of bed for a seven thirty tee time after all those bourbons?”
I silently thank our lucky stars, San Judas Tadeo, and every single saint that has interceded on our behalf. We. Are. So. In.
“Believe me, I can handle my liquor, but my clubs are back home.” Tripp tosses around that beguiling smile of his, making himself just slightly unavailable. And also, we couldn’t afford a fancy set of clubs. “Wasn’t planning on staying in town this long.”
Griggs puts one hand on his shoulder, and I can feel the tight squeeze as he says, “Tripp, my boy, don’t you worry ’bout a thing. We’ve got you covered.”
As the wedding winds down, I find Eli waiting for me at the driving range. Holly still has another hour left of her shift before we can debrief and go home. I walk toward him, holding a box of wedding cake. “Dessert?” I ask, lifting the box.
“I’m starving,” Eli sighs, offering to carry the cake. “I was so worried that I barely ate. Shame, the food looked amazing.”
“You didn’t seem worried,” I observe, working to sound cool and unconcerned. “You, Griggs, and Virginia looked like you were having a blast.”
Eli scoffs. “That girl’s like a bad tattoo.” He stares past me in the direction of the tent. “She finally hit the dance floor with her girlfriends, and I managed to break free.”
“You handled Griggs masterfully,” I say, more sincerely. “You’re really good at reading people.”
Eli responds with a bashful shrug, his cheeks glowing at the compliment. “Griggs is the type of man whowantsto be challenged,” he says, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tux. “His whole life he’s been handed everything on a silver platter, so the possibility of risk gets him off.” The muscles around his shoulders go tense under the jacket. “I’ll have to prove that I’m my own man, but also that I respect him.”
“Kinda like the not-trying look,” I tease.
“Exactly.” He chuckles, relaxing a little.
“So what type of man are you, really?” I ask, shifting the mood of the conversation. It’s an honest question, and implied in my thoughtful tone is the need for an honest answer.
Eli holds my gaze as if debating how to respond.I just want the truth, I plead with my eyes.Be honest with me, my heart implores.
“I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve got, Luisa,” he tells me, pronouncing my name the way it was intended. “I’m no Griggs.” He glances down at his tux, adding, “I’m no Tripp, either.”
I have so many more questions, but then his eyes travel back to me, lingering on the bare skin of my exposed collarbone, trailing up my neck, pausing on my lips, stopping only when he’s reached my eyes. He bites his lower lip, pinning me in place with a gaze that’s deep and burning—it reverberates all the way from my chest to my knees. I’m both grateful and mildly terrified that we’re all alone out here. I’m not sure I have it in me to resist this gorgeous man, in a tux, under the moonlight, with the sweet scent of summer in the air and the faint echo of an eighteen-piece orchestra in the background.
“It’s nice to sneak away,” he says, his voice thick and full of meaning. “Enjoy what’s left of the night with you.”
