Page 39 of Almost Enough

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Violet suggests, her eyes drifting over to where Beau stands. “You know, with actual words instead of…whatever this is that you’re doing.”

I follow her gaze. Beau’s listening to something Rowan is saying, nodding occasionally, but his eyes find mine again. He holds my stare for one beat, two, then deliberately looks away.

Why is that so hot?

“He’s impossible,” I mutter. “One minute he’s making me see stars, the next he’s all distant again.”

“Have you considered that maybe he’s just as confused as you are?” she asks, surprising me with her insight.

Before I can respond, the wedding coordinator approaches our table, clipboard in hand. “Whitley? We need to go over the processional timing for tomorrow.”

I squeeze Violet’s hand. “Duty calls. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

The coordinator leads me to the back of the room, launching into the ceremony’s timeline, but I’m not really processing her words. My mind keeps slipping back to Beau, and how delicious he looks leaning against the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“So you’ll be lined up here,” the coordinator says, tapping a laminated diagram with her pen. “Processional comes down the center aisle, vows here, exit that way.”

I nod. Smile. Make the appropriate noises while I force myself not to allow my eyes to move to the bar.

“And we’ll have you step forward once the music shifts,” she continues, flipping a page. “That cue will be very clear, so don’t worry about missing it.”

I glance over her shoulder without meaning to.

The bar is empty. Where did he go?

“Hey.”

I spin, heart jumping straight into my throat. Beau somehow ended up right behind me.

“Oh! Mr. Sinclair,” the coordinator exclaims, brightening instantly. She straightens a little, her gaze doing a slow, entirely unnecessary sweep of Beau. Shoulders. Chest. The general situation. “Perfect timing. I was just explaining to Whitley that you two will walk back down the aisle together after the ceremony.”

Ms. Coordinator-Turned-Flirt-Extraordinaire giggles and a prickle crawls up my spine. I mean, sure, I get it. He’s got that kind of effect on people. He’s all rough edges and a magnetic pull that makes adults do dumb things. I’m sure the coordinator isn’t the only one who’s noticed, yet it still irritates the hell out of me. Ridiculous, right? I have no claim on him. None. Nada. Zip.

Beau gives her a polite nod before his gaze finds mine. The tension shifts, something heavier settling over the space between us. It’s the exact kind of thing that makes me wish I’d brought a chair to stand on so I could poke him in the eye.

Then, mercifully, he drops his gaze. I exhale.

“Right,” he says, his voice smooth. “That’s the plan.”

The coordinator keeps talking, but I’m only half listening, too aware of Beau standing so close. His presence is like gravity, pulling at me even when I’m trying to focus elsewhere.

“So, you’ll need to line up right after the rings are exchanged,” she continues, tapping her clipboard. “Any questions?”

“I think we’ve got it,” I say, flashing my most professional smile. “Right, Beau?”

He nods once. “Yep.”

The coordinator beams at him. “Excellent! I’ll leave you two to practice, then.

” She gives Beau one more lingering look before walking away, her clipboard clutched to her chest.

“Practice?” I echo, turning to face him fully. “What exactly does she think we need to practice?”

“Walking, apparently.”

“I’ve managed that skill since toddlerhood, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

I take a step back and try to create some breathing room between us, but my heel catches on absolutely nothing and I stumble. Beau’s hand shoots out, steadying me by the elbow.