Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“That sounds like the sort of sappy drivel Conor would come up with.” I rolled my eyes, but some of my fondness for the man must have shown because Hugh lifted his camera and quickly snapped a picture of whatever dopey expression I was wearing.
“Hey!” I scowled. “Rude again. Don’t take pictures of people without warning. You might capture their bad side.”
The tablecloth swayed again, more noticeably this time, and a small, pink something emerged from beneath the bottom edge. I had a mental image of matronly Arabella Pfeiffer-Carmichael catching a glimpse, screaming, “Rat!” and stoking the entire assembly into a needless panic.
If this wedding got disrupted, Wells would murder me, and as his best man, I’d probably be forced to assist. No matter how intriguing Hugh was, I needed to get back to the task at hand.
I moved smoothly sideways to block Hugh’s view of the table.
“Mr. Linzee. Hugh.” I smiled winningly. “Lovely as it’s been to meet you, I really must see where my date’s wandered off to. And I do believe I see Roman Burke over by the hot hors d’oeuvres. Famous actor, you know. Quite photogenic. You should probably…” I waved a hand in that direction.
Hugh’s head tilted back, and he studied me for a long moment with those brown eyes that seemed to see far too much. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it again. “I’ll be back,” he said before scooting off toward the buffet table.
“Mmhmm,” I called after him. “Take your time.”
I let my eyes linger on him a moment longer, appreciating the view of his backside—best behavior didn’t mean a man couldn’t look—until he was swallowed by the crowd of guests. Then, I dropped to my knees and crawled under the gift table.
“Frank, you ungrateful creature!” I whispered. “You were supposed to be my date. My emotional support. How dare you abandon me this way?”
My pet hedgehog—who had once answered to the name “Oscar” also until I’d realized my family and friends might think I was talking to myself when they overheard me whispering into my pocket (rather too eccentric) instead of merely talking to the tiny animal burrowed there (utterly unobjectionable)—twitched his tiny pink nose. He didn’t seem to feel an ounce of guilt over his churlish behavior. His blond spikes stood up slightly, not quite in a full defensive position, but definitely not relaxed… and therefore not at all comfortable to grab onto.
I sighed and scooted a tiny bit closer, crossing my legs tailor-style. “All right,” I said in a low, soothing voice, holding out a hand. “I’m sorry.”
Frank twitched some more, as though questioning my sincerity. As though, perhaps, rating it no more than a four out of ten.
“Everyone’s a critic,” I grumbled. I moved incrementally closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I know too much noise and excitement can be overwhelming for you. But that’s why you need to stay in my pocket. You can’t just throw yourself overboard and disappear. I’ve told you before, it’s against the law to have a pet hedgehog in New York. You’re contraband, Frank.”
“Harsh,” a now-familiar deep voice said. The back edge of the tablecloth lifted, and a curly head peeked into my hiding spot a second before a whole body inserted itself into the tiny space right next to me. “Your hedgehog-luring game’s even weaker than your flirtation game, Mr. Overton. Two out of ten. Right, Frank?”
“Two? That was at least a…” I shook my head. “Wait. How did you know that I…?”
The tablecloth fell back into place, enveloping the three of us in semi-darkness. I stared at the man, sensing his smile, though I could barely see him. The clean, delicious scent of him was impossible to miss in close quarters though. He smelled like grass and leather and mountain laurel—the only good smells I associated with growing up in Texas—and for a second, I felt a wave of something almost like homesickness.
Ridiculous.
Best behavior, Oscar.
Hugh turned his phone’s flashlight on low and set it on the floor, giving the space a murky light. He’d lost his equipment bag somewhere, but he still had his camera hanging around his neck. “I noticed your friend peeking out of your pocket earlier when we were taking pictures upstairs, and then I saw his little nose poking out from under the tablecloth just now, so figured he’d gotten away from you. I grabbed some fruit from the buffet table in case you need it to lure him out. But I thought hedgehogs were supposed to be nocturnal. Doesn’t he want to be out playing at this hour? Running a hamster wheel marathon or something?”
“I… You went and got… I mean.” I shook my head to clear my confusion. “Yes, they are nocturnal. But my regular sitter is out of town, and I couldn’t leave Frank upstairs where he might freak out the hotel staff. He’s very suspicious of new people, and he hates crowds. That’s why he usually stays in my pocket at any time of day or night without trouble.”