Dancing with Fireflies, page 28
“Layla . . .” He touched her arm. “Wait.”
His touch sent a jolt of something through her. His fingers still rested lightly there. She turned, raising her brows.
“Do you . . . need a ride? To the wedding? The roads are getting bad.”
She stared into his eyes. He had a way of catching her completely off guard. Always had. Even back when they’d been friends, back before she and Jack had gotten together.
“I mean—you probably have a date . . .”
“I did. Two hours ago. Cooper came down with strep.”
He scratched his neck. “I’m going alone, so . . .”
“Oh.”
Was this the answer? Was God sending her the most unlikely of lifelines?
And the real question: was she really that desperate?
Sadly, she knew the answer to that one.
“So,” he said.
She shifted her weight. “Yeah, thanks. A ride would be great.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before she could guess what it was.
“Pick you up at five-thirty?”
“Sure.” Layla turned away before she could reconsider. Before she could wonder why her knees were knocking too hard to hold her upright.
Showing up at her ex-fiancé’s wedding with Murphy was infinitely better than showing up alone. Wasn’t it?
The story continues in A December Bride by Denise Hunter . . .
About the Author
DENISE HUNTER IS THE BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF MANY NOVELS, including The Trouble with Cowboys and Barefoot Summer. She lives in Indiana with her husband Kevin and their three sons.
Denise Hunter, Dancing with Fireflies
