Save the Date by Mary Kay Andrews

other groomsmen—his name was Matt, or at least she thought his name was Matt—slow-danced with her to Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me,” it dawned on Cara that she was just a tiny bit buzzed.
    She didn’t hesitate when Ryan pulled her into the line dance for the Electric Slide. She slid and clapped and tapped and rocked and threw herself into the rhythm of the song. The dance was almost over. She was doing a pivot-turn when she came face-to-face with none other than Jack, the dognapper. She turned again, abruptly, and stumbled badly.
    As luck would have it, the dance ended, and Ryan helped steady her.
    “Having fun?” he asked.
    Her face was flushed and her damp hair stuck to her forehead. “I am, but it still doesn’t feel right.…”
    But Ryan nimbly swung her into the next dance. The lights in the tent dimmed, and she heard Louis Armstrong’s raspy version of “What a Wonderful World.”
    “You’re a really good dancer,” he said.
    “Thanks, I used to…”
    Before she knew it, Ryan was handing her off to another partner. His brother Jack.
    “You!” Cara said, starting to pull away.
    “Yes, me,” Jack retorted. He clamped a hand around her waist, took her right hand in his, and pulled her close to his chest.
    She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking away. Right after this dance, she would sneak over to his place and liberate her puppy. For now, though, she floated along to the music. It was a nice song, after all, a nice sentiment, for a nice wedding. She closed her eyes and almost managed to forget her partner’s identity.
    Almost. But she was all too aware of his proximity. His hand in hers was deeply callused. He was an even better dancer than his brother. One time, she raised her lashes just enough to see his face. When he wasn’t scowling at her, he was downright good-looking.
    The song wound down, but he kept his hand on her waist. She looked up in surprise.
    “My mother’s watching,” he murmured. “She says I’m antisocial. Do me a favor and pretend like you’re enjoying yourself, okay? For just another three minutes?”
    Cara shrugged. Maybe, if she played nice, he’d relent and release her dog.
    She heard a few bars of music, took a couple of tentative steps. But Jack stopped abruptly. “What the hell? Jimmy Buffett? Whose idea of a joke is this?” His spine stiffened. He dropped her hand, shook his head. “Sorry.”
    Without another word, he stalked off, leaving her alone, in the middle of the dance floor.
    She stood in disbelief, watching him go.

 
    6
     
    Jack hurried out of the tent, hoping to avoid the ever-watchful eyes of Torie—and his mother. By the time he made it to his truck, he’d stripped off the tux jacket, unknotted the tie, and ditched the cummerbund. He unlocked the door, slung the clothes inside, then slid onto the seat and kicked off those gawdawful shiny black lace-up shoes.
    Once he was on the Skidaway Road, headed back toward town, he opened the truck windows and cranked up the radio. What a night! He’d only had one beer, but his head was throbbing. Weddings.
    Shit.
    All day Ryan had walked around with that goofy-ass grin on his face. And why? He’d just promised to love and obey a girl who would run his butt ragged for the rest of his life. So okay, even he had to admit Torie Fanning was one hot chick. But Ryan had dated lots of women just as hot as Torie, hotter even. Why this one?
    Jack didn’t get it. Never would. But then, his own history with the ladies wasn’t exactly stellar.
    Exhibit A: Zoey Ackerman. They’d met at a wedding. Jack had been a groomsman, Zoey was the bride’s cousin. His face darkened at the memory of it. Nothing good ever happened at weddings. He’d been standing at the bar, waiting for a beer. A tall blonde sidled up, introduced herself. She was new in town, had just taken a job as a Pilates instructor at the Downtown Athletic Club, where Jack was a member at the time.
    It had started as a little harmless