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always seemed to bring out the pheromones.
As I passed by the corner of the dance floor, looking for the bride, I spotted Chet
palming the ass of one of Lauren's bridesmaids while she giggled and tugged on his
necktie.
Gross. This wedding has sufficiently scarred me for life.
Finally, I found Lauren, tearfully clutching her ruined finger while her mother and
maid of honor attempted to console her& with vodka. Seriously? It wasn't even the
woman's real nail. Besides, once the dance got started, no one was paying attention to
anything other than the open bar and trolling for a hook up. I was baffled sometimes
at what some brides got upset about.
I pulled out my kit and helped her file her nail down, touching up her French
manicure as best as I could before sending her teetering back to the dance floor. Part
of me hoped the woman would just pass out already so I could be done with her.
Stopping by the bar, I snagged a soda, looking for a little caffeine boost. As was
typically the case, well over half the guests had cleared out for the night while those
who remained congregated around the dance floor. People didn't usually stick
around receptions past the first couple dances unless they were looking for a party.
I figured I'd get a head start on clean up, extinguishing candles and grouping them all
on one table to let the wax cool, folding up framed table numbers and stacking them
in one of the many storage boxes I'd carted along, any little thing that would make my
job at the end of the night a little easier.
I was working my way through slipping chair sashes off the seat backs, looping them
over the crook of my arm when someone came up behind me.
"Want some help?"
A smile spread across my lips as I turned my head to see Jasper standing a few feet
away, his suit coat and tie from earlier discarded and the top buttons of his dress
shirt undone, resting his hands on the back of a chair.
"You're a guest. Shouldn't you be out there getting your freak on?" I smirked, nodding
toward the packed dance floor.
"You know I hate listening to this crap," he said with a grimace.
It was true; Jasper had been a bit of a music snob. He preferred the bluesy stuff,
constantly on the lookout for the next great Indie rock band. He used to claim he'd
:&
been a great guitarist in another life though he couldn't strum a single chord in this
one. Lady Gaga wasn't quite his style.
"Where's your date?" I asked, stripping another sash off a chair and adding it to my
pile.
"Talking to her aunt. We're gonna take off pretty soon here, but I've got a few
minutes."
"I won't say no to free labor," I consented with a twitch of my lips, gesturing for him
to have at it.
We moved around the tables side-by-side with Jasper untying the knots and handing
them over to me to stack, keeping up an easy conversation the entire time. It was nice
working with him again. When we'd been together, he'd often show up at the end of
the night to help with some of the heavy lifting and to spend time with me after a long
day. We'd always worked together seamlessly and he'd always made me laugh, no
matter how many things had gone wrong that day. It was nice to see that some things
hadn't changed.
"So," he drawled after a few minutes. "I know it's not any of my business, so feel free
to tell me to screw off, but what's the deal with you and that guy?"
"What guy?" I asked, quirking my eyebrow and straightening out the fabric draping
over my arm.
"The photographer. He's had his eye on you all day and if I'm not mistaken, you've
had your eye on him, too." I glanced over to see if he was just teasing me, or if maybe
he was somehow disturbed by the thought of me with someone else. But his face
didn't show an ounce of amusement, anger or sadness, it was the same expression
he'd given me anytime he knew I needed him to listen open and caring and full of
understanding. Jasper's compassion had been one of the things I loved most about
him.
"I don't know what the deal is," I admitted, continuing the move around the table. I
hoped if I kept my hands busy that it'd be easier to talk. "He I don't know. It's
confusing."
"It doesn't have to be," he said, handing me another sash. He leaned against the back
of the chair across from me, crossing his ankles out in front of him as he studied me.
"I know you, Bell. When something comes up that wasn't in your plans, you freak out.
You throw up your guard and make excuses about why this new development could
never possibly work instead of considering the alternatives."
"Ouch," I winced, concentrating on smoothing the sashes over my arm. "Well, that
:&
was blunt."
"I just tell it like I see it," he said. "You know I'm not one to feed you bullshit."
"Yeah, I just figured that was one of your more charming personality quirks that I
didn't have to deal with anymore," I needled him with an innocent smile.
"Very cute," he smirked, balling up a sash and tossing it lightly at my face. I giggled
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