dance with anyone else tonight, but of course, that’s your choice.”
If words could light a fire, then his just went straight from his chest to mine. I swallow because I don’t know how to make sense of my thoughts when I can’t hear myself think over my own heartbeat. “Was that you in the woods earlier today?” I suck in a breath. “Watching me?”
Desmond’s smile curves into a faint smirk. “I thought you might have caught me.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, suddenly feeling bashful. Just minutes ago, I was in the driver’s seat, but now I’m struggling to hold on to the wheel. “I wasn’t sure.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I haven’t been able to all night.”
My thoughts are racing a million miles an hour, but one thought pulls into the lead, smoking out the rest and adding to my anxiety. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly your type.”
His smile fades, and his lips twist with confusion. “What type would that be?”
I shrug. “That woman you were talking to before the ceremony before you came over to talk to Zach and me.” I cringe a little, hating that I feel the need to point this out. “You know. That more mature woman.”
Desmond lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Holy fuck, Zach was warning you away from me, wasn’t he?”
When he searches my expression for an answer, I sigh. “Maybe.”
He rolls his eyes then brings his gaze back to mine. “I might not have the best track record when it comes to women, but I’ve always been honest—with them, with you—and I’m not ashamed of my past. And if by my type, Zach means that I go for safe women, women who won’t expect roses and romance, then yeah. I guess I have a type.”
His answer doesn’t exactly do much for my nerves. I should take comfort in knowing that Desmond isn’t interested in a relationship since that’s the last thing I want with him. But even as I tell myself that, I’m not quite sure I believe it.
He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. “I’m not perfect. Never have been. But I’ll never lie to you, Maggie. That’s one promise I can make you.”
We’re done talking when Desmond dips me, supporting my arch before bringing me back into his hold. Dancing with Desmond is effortless, just like bantering with him. He’s just… Desmond, and like always, the pull I feel toward him is strong, but so is my need to run.
For the next two hours, we dance, drink, and laugh. I almost think he’s stopped counting his drinks until he waves away a shot offered to him by Gavin. “I can’t man. Thank you, but I need to drive that van home soon.”
My jaw drops, and I laugh up at him. “You can’t deny a shot from the groom at his own wedding. It’s bad luck!” I don’t know if I just made that superstition up or if it actually existed, but it sounds good coming out of my mouth. “You’ve only had one since we started dancing.”
“Yeah,” Desmond says coolly while glancing down at his phone. “But it’s ten o’clock.”
“And you’re going to turn into a pumpkin?” I tease with a tilt of my head. I don’t want this night to be over.
“No, smart-ass, but I do need to pick up the trays and load the van.” He hesitates to leave me on the dance floor, and my heart skips a beat. I imagine the reason why he doesn’t want to leave me is because he doesn’t want me to dance with anyone else.
“I’ll come with you and help,” I offer.
Desmond blinks like he doesn’t understand me. “Really? You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Okay, but don’t expect me to pay you overtime.”
I roll my eyes and follow him to the catering table. He starts on one side, and I start on the other. We’re able to stack most of the trays since they’re empty, but the ones we can’t, I empty into a few containers that Desmond plans to drop off at a nearby shelter on his way home. After four trips, everything is in the van, and we’re standing near the tree, debating whether or not to rejoin the reception.
“Do you need a ride home?” he asks nonchalantly as he plays with his keys.
I open my mouth to tell him no but then have a change of heart. “Monica offered to share her hotel room tonight, but…”
His brows lift