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Half her brain still wanted to hop off this ride before the brakes stopped working, but the other half was already trying to figure out what to wear—black skirt, silky red top, kitten heels. “What time?”
“Is nine too late?”
“Nine is perfect.”
“Good. Looking forward to it. And I’m not only saying that because you’re a fantastic kisser.”
“Cole, please stop,” she said through a laugh. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”
“And I’ve never been embarrassed a single day in my life. We’re perfect for each other. See you soon.”
When he ended the call, Mira held her phone over her still-racing heart. This was probably a terrible idea, but he was right. It would, without a doubt, at least be fun.
CHAPTERFIVE
MIRA
When his blackVolvo wagon pulled up, Mira attempted a sophisticated saunter to the curb in her favorite outfit and only pair of un-scuffed heels.
“Hey, there,” he said after rolling his window down, leaning over his stick shift to peer up at her. “You look amazing. Hop in.”
“It’s not far,” she said as the spring breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders. “We could walk.”
“Sounds perfect.” He gave her a smile, and she felt it everywhere, tiny bubbles popping over her skin like diving headfirst into a glass of champagne.
He parked, then swung his door open, his long legs emerging before the rest of him. He still wore his suit from the rehearsal dinner, dark gray pants and jacket, a black tie. Every piece fit him like someone had sewn the fabric around him, like he was a famous person walking the red carpet at an awards show. Which he had been, several times.Thank you, Google.
She suddenly felt underdressed, too casual when paired with his bespoke famous-person’s suit. As if reading her mind, he slid his jacket off and undid his tie with a swift tug, slipping it from around his neck. Tossing both his tie and his jacket onto the passenger seat, he closed his door and turned to face her.
Now he was headed to the afterparty. Now he was casual, loose. Now they matched.
“Nice night,” he said, strolling her way while he undid his cuffs and rolled his shirtsleeves up with a practiced efficiency, one arm at a time, revealing muscles, veins, skin. “You really do look amazing.”
“Thank you,” she said, wondering if she could fry an egg off her cheeks. “You look amazing too. How was the rehearsal dinner?”
Stepping up onto the curb, he ran a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. Pristinely messy. “Emotional. Conor, Madigan’s dad, gave this incredible speech. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even the restaurant staff teared up. It’s fine, though. I only have to follow it with the best man’s toast tomorrow. No big.”
She tilted her head to the side, indicating the way to the bar. “Have you written it yet?”
“Not yet,” he said, falling seamlessly into step beside her before amending. “That’s not entirely true. I’ve written and rewritten the speech ten times, but it’s still off. It’s ironic, too, because if Mad knew how tied up I’ve been over it, he’d be the first person to tell me to go easier on myself. But I can’t. It has to be right. It’s Madigan.”
“I get that.” And she did. Matthew Madigan had touched countless lives in Red Falls since he’d moved to town, hers included. Most recently, when he hired her to make their wedding cake.
“Mad and I have been friends most of my life. I lived with him through high school after the Madigans took me in. He’s like a brother. I can’t mess this up.”
“So much pressure,” she said.
“Loads,” he agreed.
“Did you know that studies show pressure can actually boost performance?”
“I did, actually,” he said with a smirk she caught from the corner of her eye. “And at my age, I’ll take all the help I can get.”
She laughed while her skin hummed.
“So, where are you taking me tonight?”
“I thought we’d try Jimmy’s.”
