Page 26 of The Wedding Run (The Wedding Letter #1)

Luke

I wonder if I’ve waited long enough, allowing Libby and Derek enough time alone. Or have I given them too much time? What's the protocol? Envy sneaks up on me, even though it has no right to be here. I have no right to feel this way, so I squash it.

“Just ask her,” Roxie says as she stirs a batch of muffins.

I pocket my phone. “She’ll think it’s a date.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Roxie asks.

But I haven’t told Roxie about the kiss. I only mentioned that my mother requested I take Libby out for dinner because she was hosting their monthly friends' dinner.

“You should go out with her.”

“She’s Derek’s ex,” I remind Roxie. “She just left a serious relationship… an engagement. She’s not ready to date someone else.”

“How do you know?”

She has me there. I don’t know. I rub my jaw, recalling that kiss, which didn’t feel like she was holding back or reluctant.

“Maybe you’re the one not ready,” Roxie prods.

“What are you talking about? I go out.”

Roxie scoffs. “You haven’t been in a serious relationship since?—”

“I know,” I interrupt, not wanting to relive that difficult time three years ago. “I haven’t found the right one.”

“You’ve become commitment-phobic,” she jabs.

“I have not. If the right woman came along?—”

“She might be right here!” Roxie aims the spatula at the door leading to The Brew’s main area, then at my chest. “If it didn’t mean something to you, you wouldn’t be so worried about asking her to dinner if you didn't think it was a date.”

She’s right. She’s always right. And she knows it.

Roxie sets the spatula on the counter and comes over to me. She turns me toward the door with a gentle push. “Now go. Get it over with.”

I stumble through the doorway into the shop’s front. Seeing Libby standing at the big window makes me swallow hard. She’s all alone.

“Where’s Derek?” I ask.

She turns toward me, and I see a wistfulness in her eyes. “He left.”

“You okay?”

“Sure.” She gestures to an area beside the picturesque window that provides a view of Storyteller’s Lane, which leads down the middle of town to the park and gazebo. “I was thinking,” she says, “what if we do it here?”

Her question makes me think about that kiss. “Do what exactly?”

“The wedding cake,” she explains. “We need a place to cut the cake. Could make for some beautiful photos.”

“Right.” I nod and look over the area. “I have a table in the storage area that might work.”

“Can you show it to me?” she asks.

“Sure.” I lead her through the small kitchen where Roxie eyes us, then on to a storage room out of earshot. Just ask her .

Libby almost bumps into me, and I turn and catch her, hands on her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Uh, Libby,” I stumble over myself.

“Luke,” she says, “would you have dinner with me tonight?”

My heart catches on a beat. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

“You were?”

Her eyes darken. “Luke, before you get any ideas. Or maybe before I get any, I’m sorry about earlier. You know, the kiss. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m sorry. And then again, I’m not. I mean. It was a great kiss.”

That admission flips my insides around.

“But like I said,” she continues, “it can’t happen again.”

That settles my insides.

“Or it shouldn’t,” she continues. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just ended an engagement, and I’m trying to figure out my life. This is not the right time. But I like you, Luke. I do. Probably more than I should. You’re kind, attentive, helpful, and of course attractive.”

I realize I’m nodding along with what she’s saying, but inside I’m thinking, No, no, no .

“I mean,” she adds, “who am I kidding? Clearly, you’re a catch. Even Benelope, or whatever her name is, was upset when she thought you had married someone else. So, who wouldn’t want to marry you or kiss you or…” She draws a sharp breath. “But we should take a step back.”

“By having dinner?” I ask, feeling like I’ve been on that stupid teacup ride at Disney World, and I can't tell up from down.

“Yes, I mean, no. What I mean is that I want to have dinner with you as a thank you for all you’ve done for me this week.

You’ve been really kind when I needed a friend.

And when Derek showed up today, you were cool about everything.

And I appreciate it. I do. I put you in an awkward situation with your business partner.

I had no right to do that. I’m sorry. I’m confused and need to sort through my thoughts and feelings.

But I want to properly thank you. Because you deserve it.

” She finishes, out of breath, as if she’s run the Atlanta Marathon.

I attempt to untangle my own thoughts.

“Did I step on your toes?” she asks. “I’m sorry.

I keep saying that. I’ve been misleading you, flirting when I shouldn’t have, kissing you when I shouldn’t have.

And you asked me on a date, and I even preempted you, making you think…

well, I don’t know what I made you think.

But I’m sorry. If you’re looking for romance or something more, I’m sorry. ”

I clear my throat. “Libby, I was going to ask you out to dinner because my folks are having a dinner party at their house.”

Her eyes widen. “Right!” she says, forcing a smile. “Good. Yes! Perfect. It’s a plan.”

I step toward her, my heart thumping in my chest, my senses on high alert with her so close, her provocative scent rising to greet me. “Just so you know, it was a fantastic kiss. One for the record books.”

Her lips part enough that I want to kiss her again. But I hold myself in check.

“And I like you too, Libby. Probably too much. But I’m, as you said, in a difficult position. Derek’s my business partner. And I don’t want you rebounding into my arms.”

“I get it! I do!” She pats my arm like we’re pals. “Don’t worry about a thing. We probably shouldn’t be seen out and about with Derek in town. Word could reach him. And rumors around Storybrook do have a life of their own.”

I nod in agreement.

“So,” she continues, “I will make you the best dinner you’ve ever had.”

“At my place?” I ask.

“You don’t mind, do you? You do have a stove?”

“I do.”

“I promise I’m a good cook.”

“Nothing instant?”

“No instant mashed potatoes. No mac and cheese from a box. I promise.”

“Mac and cheese from a box can be good.”

She laughs, and I feel my heart jolt in response.

“What’s your specialty?” I ask.

“Unicorn pancakes,” she answers without hesitation.

“Is that make-believe?”

“No,” she says, “it’s real. But don’t worry, I’ll cook something less magical tonight.”

I grin, knowing that spending time with Libby will be magical even if instant coffee is involved. And it’s then I know how much I’ve fallen for this woman.

“So, you’re okay with having dinner with me?” she asks.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

And it’s settled. We’re having a non-date date. In hiding. Far away from prying eyes.

Why does that make me even more nervous?