He let out a slow breath.
For a man who’d vowed never to fall in love again ... who no longer trusted his judgment about women ... who’d resolved to walk a wide circle around any involvement that held a hint of relationship potential ... he was setting himself up for a fall by spending this evening with Devyn.
Because no matter how hands-off and just-friends they kept their date, or how much self-discipline he exercised, he had a feeling his heart wasn’t going to cooperate.
Beside him, Devyn began to clap. So did everyone else.
The ceremony must be over.
He joined in the applause, giving his high school friend a thumbs-up when the grinning groom glanced his way as the couple passed.
“That was beautiful.” Devyn turned to him. “Weddings are always filled with so much hope and promise and dreams, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Even if his own dreams of marital bliss had shattered. But rather than dwell on that depressing thought, he stood and crooked his elbow. “I think they’re going to cut the cake and do the official dances first. We better follow the crowd.”
After a brief hesitation, she rose and slipped her hand through his arm. “I’m glad I wore flats. Otherwise my heels would be sinking into the ground, after all the rain we had this morning.” She sounded a tad winded as they crossed the headland toward the event center for the reception.
“Very smart.”
“I try to be.” She flicked him a quick look.
A reminder, perhaps, of their agreement to watch their step tonight—and not just while they were dancing.
Duly noted.
A small orchestra was already playing when they entered the banquet room, and by the time they found their seats and introduced themselves to their tablemates, the bride and groom had cut the cake and moved to the dance floor.
“We’re up next.” He leaned close to Devyn as he spoke. Closer than he needed to. The music wasn’tthatloud.
“You ready for your moment in the spotlight?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Did you practice this week?”
“Some. Isabel joined in the fun. She got a kick out of it, but the height difference was problematic.”
“Did she pick up the steps?” Her warm breath feathered across his cheek and played havoc with his respiration.
“Faster than I did.” He cleared the hoarseness from this throat.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You did fine.” She angled around to watch the dancing couple. “They’ve had lessons too. That’s a fancy foxtrot.”
“Yeah.” He followed their progress across the dance floor. “I only know the basic step for that dance. They’ve added a bunch of flourishes.”
She looked back at him. “You didn’t tell me you had any ballroom background.”
“‘Background’ would be a stretch. Early in our marriage, Olivia signed us up for a ballroom dance class. The first lesson was the foxtrot. I did okay with that, but when we moved on to the cha-cha, she told me I was hopeless and we stopped going. For whatever reason, the basic foxtrot step has stuck with me. Not that I ever have occasion to use it.” If he was lucky, maybe Devyn would suggest he dust off his rusty skills tonight and give him another chance to hold her in his arms after the obligatory swing number.
She didn’t.
Instead, she motioned to the two groomsmen and the bridesmaids they’d been paired with who had positioned themselves at the edge of the dance floor. “The second act is waiting in the wings. Should we join them?”
“I guess so.” He stood, motioning her to precede him after she rose.
They took their place with the rest of the wedding party, andas soon as the first dance ended, the bride waved them onto the floor.
Devyn led the way out, pivoted, and extended her hands.
