Page 2 of A Dance with His Angel

“Phone call,” he blurts with a questioning lift at the end, rubbing his thumb across my bare skin, still clutching my elbow. “I mean, car alarm?” He swallows hard, perhaps thinking up excuses on the spot, and I realize he’s nervous. That’s why he left.

I make him nervous.

I duck my head and smile inwardly as I arrange a cloth napkin on my shoulder to burp Ivy when she finishes her bottle. My cheeks warm as butterflies take flight in my stomach throughout the rest of the evening with Martin sitting quietly by my side.

“Who was that?” Mom asks when she pulls away from the restaurant after picking Ivy and me up, darting a look in her rearview mirror.

“James’s friend, Martin. He’s one of the groomsmen.” I watch as his strong, stout figure grows smaller in the side mirrorwhile he lingers at the front of the restaurant long after he walked me outside to wait with me.

At the first stoplight, Mom says, “He seemed keen on you.”

I can’t stop smiling. “I think so.”

She says slowly, “Maybe a little old for you, though.”

“He’s twenty-six,” I say with a shrug, heat rising up my neck. Two years younger than James, Shayla told me. After the initial shock when James and Shayla revealed their relationship, everyone seemed to move past the ten-year age difference between them, and Shayla’s parents eventually welcomed him with open arms.

“Like I said.” Mom reaches across to pat my knee. “A little too old.”

Or maybe he’s just right.

Chapter Two

Martin

I trip over my feet and slam my thigh into a wooden pew, nearly tumbling with the angel on my arm while doing the most terrifically terrible job of leading Eden down the pink aisle toward the altar the next evening. The rows of seated guests collectively gasp, and my face flames with mortification. Thankfully, James doesn’t seem to notice because he’s staring over our heads, waiting for his bride.

“Steady, my lady,” I say to Eden, my voice cracking all the more embarrassingly when I catch her around her soft and glorious middle after making her stumble. Her hip curves divinely where it presses into mine.

“Thank you, my lord,” Eden whispers, leaning into me instead of away.

Eden’s attention and playful manner are a pleasure unlike any other. As is the incredible luck bestowed upon me by the wedding coordinator, who paired Eden and me to walk down the aisle together. I should be thanking Eden for allowing a simpleton, such as I, the exquisite opportunity to so much asbreathe near her, and for each lovely utterance of “my lord” when she addresses me instead of keeping her distance as Isaiah does Bailey. Eden is the first in a long while not to be “weirded out” by my “extreme nerdiness” as Shayla’s youngest sister, Autumn, repeatedly claims James, Isaiah, and I are during game nights at her house with her dad.

Speaking of the devil, over our shoulders, Autumn whispers, “Y’all are so weird.”

Poor Isaiah. The wedding coordinator paired him with Shayla’s sisters, their elbows hooked over his, one on each side.

“They’re not weird,” Bailey says a little too loudly. When I peek back, I see she has her small chin tipped up to lovingly gaze at Isaiah. “He’s perfect.”

Poor, poor Isaiah.

Seeing Bailey’s unrequited and disturbing infatuation with Isaiah firsthand is a sobering reminder of my age and Eden’s. Though Shayla made it well known at the end of her rehearsal dinner that Eden is eighteen and single, I’ve been grappling with the age difference since I first laid eyes on the angel. I had to make a swift exit after meeting Eden to hide my infatuation when she called me “Lord Martin.” Splashing cold water on my face, however, did nothing to rid the blush from my cheeks.

I duck my head, using my shoulder-length curls for a shield, steering Lady Eden farther down the aisle. Finally arriving at our destination after only a few more missteps, I find it quite difficult to part with her. But part we must, though my eyes never leave her as we stand on opposite sides of the stage.

“Let go, B,” Isaiah hisses, trying to shake Bailey’s hand off so he may join me at James’s side.

Miranda tsks and jumps up from her seat at the front pew, jogging forward to forcefully pull her daughter away by the shoulders. “Remember what we talked about on the ride here?”

Bailey’s face falls to a pout, her silvery-blue eyes turning watery. As if by some magic though, she straightens and gifts her mother with a sly smile before twirling away and up the three steps onto the stage beside Autumn.

My Lady Eden’s rich brown eyes meet mine from across the divide. I’m once again struck by the beauty of her round cheeks, shy smile, and gorgeous brown waves that hang loose and stop just above her breasts—which I have not once allowed myself a peek of so as not to sully her innocence with my lustful gaze. As Sherman leads Shayla down the aisle to join James, my attention remains on Eden, and continues to do so while Shayla and James recite their vows. I don’t hear a word they say, blood rushing fast in my ears with the sweet anticipation of holding Eden once more when it’s time to make our way back down the aisle.

“My lady,” I whisper, crooking my elbow when I leave the stage. I stop just short of bowing to her in front of the audience. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall, my lord,” she says, slipping her hand under my arm, turning to beam at the wedding guests while I beam at the profile of her lovely, too-young face.

With my hands shoved in my black suit pants, I putter around the long table reserved for those in the wedding party, while James and Shayla have their first dance as husband and wife. I subtly track Eden as she skirts the dance floor to sit at a round table draped in a pink tablecloth toward the right of the venue. It would be hard enough being so far from her if she’d chosen to sit at the reserved table, her beside Shayla and me on the opposite side with James. But it’s even harder to bear that she’schosen to sit with her mother, who had watched her precious granddaughter, Ivy, during the wedding.