Julie Miller - Do-Or-Die Bridesmaid

Conor captured Laura’s fingers, curved his hand around her waist and turned her into his arms. “I was just asking your little sister to.” He managed a wink for Lisa as he whisked her bridesmaid onto the dance floor in a swirl of candy-pink tulle. “When they get to the hokey pokey, I’m your man.”

It took a few steps for him to find the rhythm of the music after the abrupt start. Laura seemed to struggle for a moment, too. She stumbled over his feet, her free hand brushing against his arm, tapping the middle of his chest, then grasping his arm again, as if she wasn’t sure where to rest it. Conor caught the wayward hand and placed it on his shoulder. He tightened his hold behind her waist and pulled her hips into his so that they could match their steps without him crushing any of her toes with his big feet.

Leading her into the heart of the dancers, he dipped his mouth beside Laura’s ear. “Thanks for the save.”

“Anytime. But seriously?” She whacked his shoulder in a playful reprimand. “The hokey pokey? Avoiding my sister much?”

“A slow dance leaves too much time for talking. I’ve said my piece to Lisa.”

“But you’re okay to talk with me?”

“Yeah. I’m okay with that.” That wasn’t a lie. Something inside him eased a little bit. “If you can stand to talk to me after that whole Scott Swearingen fiasco.”

“I know it’s your go-to, but you don’t have to make everything a joke. Not with me.”

The music created a low, pulsing rhythm in Conor’s blood. Or maybe that was simply the thumping of his heart after that close call with Lisa. And maybe it had nothing to do with any woman other than the one he held in his arms. Laura stared right at the knot of his tie as they swayed together. But she did this crazy-cute thing when she spoke, tilting her eyes up to him. With his hand flattened at the small of her back, it wouldn’t take much to tug her body flush against his. And for a few seconds, his fingers tightened against the ticklish lace, wanting to do just that.

Good grief. Had he not been with a woman since Lisa returned his ring? He mentally ran through his social calendar, or lack thereof, for the past two years. Hell. Had he even gone out on a date?

No wonder the enticing scent of Laura’s hair was filling his head with non-brotherly thoughts. Just entertaining the idea of moving his hand to the curve of her rump or nuzzling his lips against the shell of her exposed ear shocked him into taking half a step back and thinking analytically about Laura. She had more curves to hold on to than Lisa ever had. Laura clearly took after her mother’s side of the family, while Lisa favored their father. The crown of Laura’s dark hair had touches of gold in it that Lisa’s sable tresses lacked. The caramel highlights tipping each wave made Laura’s hair color as uniquely unpredictable as the green and gold of her eyes.

“Have I ever danced with you before, Squirt—” said green-gold eyes tilted his way and he caught himself “—Laura?”

“No. It’s not as awkward as I imagined it would be.” A rosy hue warmed her cheeks, and he wondered if he’d ever seen her blush before. “Because of the differences in our heights.”

Wait. Why was she was blushing? “You imagined dancing with me?”

“Ego much, Detective?”

Conor laughed. “My ego’s taken a few hard hits lately. It appreciates even the remnants of a teenage crush.”

She glanced to the side and stiffened in his arms for a moment. Conor was about to ask if he’d offended her, when she hooked her hand behind his neck, moving in close enough for her breasts to brush against him. For a few seconds, as every sensible cell in his body rushed to those points of contact, he didn’t even hear her words. “Lisa’s glaring at us. She knows you’re avoiding her. Are you okay with that? Or are we trying to make her mad?”

After inhaling a steadying breath, Conor eased a little space between them, ostensibly so he could look down into her eyes, but mostly because his body was firing in ways he wasn’t entirely comfortable with around Laura. And he certainly didn’t want her to realize the purely male interest in her that was stirring behind his zipper. “I’m not the retribution type. I’m okay with this marriage. But I don’t have to be a glutton for punishment. I’m afraid getting too close will stir up things I’m not allowed to feel anymore.”

Or shouldn’t feel in the first place—like whatever was happening to him with Laura tonight.

“Lisa loved you, you know.” She shrugged, as if apologizing for what she said next. “I just don’t think she was in love with you.”

Well, wasn’t that a painfully sharp distinction to make? Time to change the subject to anything but him. “Did you ever get a date with that track star?”

“Nope. Decided he wasn’t my type.” Thankfully, Laura shifted the conversation with him. “That was almost a decade ago. I’m not a kid anymore. You just haven’t been around to notice. I’ve earned a college degree. I have a career as an educational travel coordinator. I book and lead student tours. I’ve seen a lot of the country. A lot of the world.”

“And I thought you wanted to grow up and play professional softball. Or be a veterinarian at a zoo—you wanted to save cheetahs or something like that. Or become a US marshal like your favorite neighbor.”

Laura pulled her hand from his shoulder, laughing as she gestured to the generous swells of her breasts. “These got in the way of being an athlete. Allergy to cats precluded the vet job. And I outgrew my teenage crush on all things Conor Wildman long ago.”

Conor covered his heart, laughing with her. “I’m wounded.”

She teasingly punched his arm before grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the rhythm of the music. “All the years I would have traded anything for you to see me as more than your kid sister. Oh, well. You had your chance, big guy. I’ve moved on.”

That particular choice of words sounded a little too familiar. Moving on was exactly what Lisa had done. Years ago, it was what his father had done, too.

Conor needed to save the conversation before he took a trip too far down the path of bitter memories. “I appreciate the flowers and letter you sent for Mom. That was sweet of you to recall some of the fun things we did growing up. Those were good memories. Mom treasured them as much as I did.”

“They were. I’m so sorry about Marie.” Laura stopped in the middle of the dance floor to slide her arms beneath his jacket and hug him around the waist.

Conor braced his feet, absorbing a bump from the couple moving next to them. When that accidental nudge didn’t loosen her hold on him, he wound his arms around her shoulders, protecting her from the people moving around them. And, if he was honest with himself, relaxing into the curves of her body and the heat of her small form clinging to him, accepting the solace of the compassionate gesture. “You okay, Squirt?”

He felt the hum of her groan vibrating through the cotton of his shirt.

“Sorry.” He dropped a kiss to the crown of her hair. “Laura. You okay?”

Her squeeze around him tightened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back for the service. But I did go by the cemetery once I was in town. The marker wasn’t up yet, but I left flowers at the site.”

“Thank you.” That reminded him that he needed to go by the cemetery and check the status of the headstone he’d ordered.

They were still hugging as the song ended. The DJ was encouraging the married couples in attendance to make their way to the dance floor for a competition to see who’d been together the longest. “That leaves us out.” Conor finally relented his hold on Laura. She pulled away but latched onto his hand as he walked her back to the tables. “It really is good to see you, Laura.”