The Wedding Planner Playbook

“I feel ridiculous, Lettie.” Tori stood at the edge of the white linen tent with her phone pressed to her ear and her arm held tightly across her stomach. Sand shifted beneath her as she eased her weight from one bare foot to the other.

This was what she got for letting her best friend pick out her outfit. Had she known that she’d been getting all dressed up to spend hours on the beach, she would have foregone her strappy heels for a pair of flat sandals. As it was, she’d left her shoes in the trunk of her car along with the purse she hadn’t wanted to lug around all night.

Thank the Lord this dress had a pocket for her phone.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m at a wedding for two people I’ve never met, thanks to you and Deb,” she whispered loudly. She could hardly hear herself over the blaring music, but the last thing she wanted was to draw even more attention. Fifteen feet away, a crowd of people in khaki shorts and colorful sundresses danced chaotically to “Uptown Funk.” “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“How is that possible? You’re a wedding planner. You’ve been to a million of them.”

“True, but I’m also usually the one in charge.” She was used to running around in the background, giving whatever orders were needed to make things run smoothly. But this?

She’d never been an actual guest at a wedding before. At least not when she was alone and didn’t know anyone else there. And certainly not when she’d felt so uncomfortably exposed. One curious glance after another shifted to where she stood alone in the corner.

“It’s like I’ve got a giant neon sign over my head or something,” she muttered into the phone.

“What? I can barely hear you.”

Tori threw a tiny scowl at a nearby speaker. She scanned the dancers and small groups chatting around her and met several pairs of eyes. Each flicked away within half a second. Who knew how many more were watching her that she couldn’t see? “Why did you make me come here?”

“The father of the bride is the head of Bedland Shores’s small business bureau. And as the new owner of Planned to Perfection Weddings, it’s good business sense to get our name out there. It’s called networking. Please tell me you’ve been networking.”

“I did network, and it took all of ten minutes out of a four-hour event.” Those ten minutes had been a piece of cake. Tori had never had a problem talking business. It was after the business talk that she struggled. She wasn’t the type to win people over with a smile and some chitchat. That was all Lettie. Which was exactly why she’d asked her best friend to leave her job in public relations and come work for her, handling all the social media and marketing, in the first place. “Isn’t this supposed to be your job?”

“Plus,” Lettie went on, ignoring her question, “Deb and I thought this could be a good chance for you to have some fun. And not in a standing-off-in-a-corner-and-silently-sizing-up-the-competition kind of way.” Tori stared down at her sand-covered feet. After ten years, her friend knew her all too well. “Now I want you to hang up with me, get yourself a drink, smile at a few people, and flirt shamelessly with whatever guy decides to hit on you.”

“Lettie—”

“No buts, Torrance Schaefer. I know you’re nervous about the meeting with the Bedlands tomorrow morning. So tonight, you’re going to relax and have fun. Promise me.”

There was no point in arguing when Lettie pulled out the full name. “I promise I’ll try.”

“Do better than try. You work way too hard, and you deserve a night off. And that means absolutely no work talk. None. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Now go have fun, and I’ll see you in the morning.” She could practically hear the triumphant grin in Lettie’s voice. “And don’t touch your hair too much or it’ll go flat. Call me if you need a ride home tonight or anything.”

“Will do. Bye.” Tori ended the call before stowing her phone away in the pocket of her sky-blue sundress.

Hang up, get a drink, smile. Socializing and networking may not be her forte, but checklists, at least, she could handle. Tori drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and headed straight for the bar where the bartender appeared to be serving a variety of daiquiris.

Strawberry daiquiri in hand, and after managing a warm smile to the bartender that would make Lettie proud, Tori found one of the wooden support posts at the edge of the tent to hide beside.

A soft breeze rustled and rippled the sheer linen canopy over her head, currently lit with the warm orange glow of the setting sun. Round tables draped with turquoise and white tablecloths lined the edges of the tent, each bestowed with a centerpiece of breathtaking coral calla lilies. Coral had been deemed overdone at her old firm, but even she had to admit that it went beautifully with the turquoise and touches of gold at each place setting. The whole thing was on the small side, nothing compared to the wedding events she’d taken part in in Atlanta for the last ten years, but there was something kind of lovely about the more intimate gathering.

Between settling into her new home in Bedland Shores and getting a handle on the business and office space her mother had given her, she hadn’t had time to look into the town’s only other wedding planner. She knew the business’s name, Narrative Weddings, but aside from that, she knew nothing. One thing Tori was certain of: whoever the woman was, she had an eye for visual detail.

Tori drew her untouched daiquiri to her lips.

“I’d go easy on that if I were you.”

She stopped just shy of taking her first sip as a man peeked over at her from the other side of the wooden post next to her.

His lips curved in a crooked smile that went perfectly with khaki shorts and rolled-up shirt sleeves. His dark blond hair was thick with just enough curl to make it stick up oddly in places. If that grin weren’t enough to take her breath away, those broad shoulders and that square jaw sure did it.

He pushed a pair of dark-rimmed glasses up his nose, then leaned one shoulder against the beam, a poster boy for the fresh-out-of-bed look that matched the casual tone of the wedding perfectly. It was nothing like the classic, sophisticated ambiance Tori generally aimed for with the nuptial events she orchestrated in Atlanta, but there seemed to be a few perks to the more laid back approach. Case in point…

“S-sorry, what was that?”

His eyes glittered with a playful twinkle she suspected had little to do with the round paper lanterns just turning on overhead. “The drinks. I know the bartender, and he has a tendency to make them a little strong.”

“Is that so?” she asked, studying the innocent-looking pink drink in her hand.

He nodded toward the sea of dancing figures in the middle of the tent. “Just ask the groom over there.”

She searched the crowd, expecting to find the man she’d seen waiting with a sweaty forehead and shaking hands at the end of the aisle for his bride only hours ago. Sure enough, he stood in the middle of a dance circle, but any sign of his earlier nerves had vanished as he swung his hips haphazardly from side to side with complete abandon.

“Maybe he just got started a little early,” she offered. “You know, wedding day jitters.”

“Does the pastor usually get wedding day jitters too?”

Tori’s eye caught on the older man who’d elegantly officiated the ceremony, now flailing about on the ground as he attempted—and failed—to do the worm on the uneven sand floor.

She set her drink carefully on the table next to her. “Point taken.”

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “I’m Wyatt.”

“Tori.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tori.”

“You too.” Did he hold her hand for an extra long beat before releasing it, or was that just time slowing as her heart started racing? Geez, the way she reacted to him anyone would think she was already a few daiquiris in. She hardly recognized her own thoughts.

She took a small step back and mentally shook herself. “Are you close to the bride and groom?”

He shrugged. “We all grew up together, but I wouldn’t call us particularly close. I’m mostly here in a professional capacity.” He shoved both his hands into his pockets, the movement jostling an expensive camera she hadn’t noticed hanging around his neck.

“I see.” So he was the photographer hired to shoot the wedding? Made sense as to why he was hanging around at the edge with her instead of losing himself in the thick of it like the rest of the guests. If he turned out to be good, maybe she’d consider hiring him for some of her events. Though she usually had a strict rule about using only the best vendors and photographers, the ones who had the experience, not to mention the notoriety, to guarantee the smooth, perfect wedding her clients and their guests always expected.

Still, she might could make an exception for Mr. Handsome Dreamy Eyes here.

“What about you, Tori? Did you go to college with the bride and groom?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because this is a small town where everybody knows everybody, and I do believe I would have noticed you before now if you were from around here.” Well, that explained all the staring and attention she’d been getting. Her neon sign theory hadn’t been so far off after all. “Did you all go to Valdosta State together?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve actually never met either of them. It was my mother’s assistant’s invite.” Her assistant now, technically. “But she couldn’t make it, so I agreed to come in her place. My friend decided it would be good for our new business, seeing as we only just moved here.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your business?”

She’d already told her story a few times in the week she’d been in Bedland Shores. How she had worked for a company in Atlanta for the past ten years. That her mom had run Planned to Perfection quite successfully in the small coastal town for almost as long before deciding to step down and hand over everything she’d built to her only daughter.

Coming into a new town full of strangers wasn’t easy, and work had been Tori’s go-to whenever she felt unsure what to say. And yet, standing here with Wyatt as the sun set over them, work was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Or could talk about, come to think of it.

“Unfortunately, that same friend made me promise not to talk about work tonight under threat of injury. And Lettie tends to take promises very seriously.”

“I take it you’re the workaholic type?” he asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity as opposed to the tone of judgment she was used to.

“Something like that.”

Wyatt laughed, causing a fresh wave of warmth to spread through her chest. He stood tall and faced her. “Well, I’d certainly hate for you to sustain bodily injury because of me. So let’s make a deal. I promise not to ask you about work or your business, ultimately saving you from your friend’s unbearable wrath. If…”

“If?”

His eyes twinkled again. “If you agree to get out of here with me right now.”

“Now?” Tori’s eyes fell on the camera hanging from his neck. “I thought you were here for a job. You can’t just leave early.”

“Why not? The hard part’s over, and I’ve got people who can handle the rest.”

That playful gleam in Wyatt’s eye was back in full force. Lettie did tell her to have fun tonight. But running off with a stranger in a town she didn’t know probably wasn’t what her friend had in mind. “What would we do exactly?”

His grin doubled as if he knew she’d already given in. “Well, with you being a newcomer to Bedland Shores, I feel it is my civic duty to show you around the town. Help you get to know your new home.”

“At seven o’clock at night?”

“There really is no time like the present.” He took a step closer. “Come on, what do you say?”

She bit her lip, her eyes searching his bright ones. This was probably a bad idea. She should be spending the rest of her night prepping for her morning meeting. But for the first time, her brain was battling against something even stronger, a bubble of excited energy in her chest and a strange desire in her gut to trust him, to see where this went.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Perfect. Let me tell some people I’m done for the night, and then we’ll go.”

Wyatt disappeared, and Tori took the opportunity to steal a quick sip from the daiquiri she’d left on the table to try to settle her nerves.

She coughed against the rage of pure fire that licked down her throat. Holy crap, he wasn’t kidding! The glass hit the table with an unceremonious thunk. She scanned the tent for Wyatt, spotting him talking to a man with shoulder-length light-blond hair and a full sleeve tattoo in charge of the DJ booth. A friend of his?

Wyatt patted him on the shoulder and made his way back across the sandy dancefloor, his fancy camera now missing from around his neck. “You ready to go?” He offered her his hand, and she took it with only minor hesitation. The second their hands met, any doubts melted away.

“All set.”

“Then today is your lucky day,” he said as he gently led her from the tent.

“Why’s that?”

He looked back over his shoulder. “Because I am a fantastic tour guide.”

Tori hadn’t been sure what to expect when Wyatt offered to show her around Bedland Shores, but she certainly hadn’t imagined herself riding around town barefoot on an electric scooter, listening to Wyatt tell her stories.

“You see this spot right here?” he asked, stopping his scooter on the sidewalk in front of a small pharmacy and pointing down at a crack in the cement. “This is where Mr. Randall single-handedly took down an NFL offensive lineman with only his cane and a tube of denture cream. The guy hit the ground so hard he broke the sidewalk.”

Tori fought to maintain her straight face. “Wow. Mr. Randall must be pretty strong to be able to do that kind of damage.”

“That’s nothing. You should have seen what he could do before he broke his hip.” He winked, and she failed to hold in her laughter any longer.

He’d been leading her all over town for nearly two hours, entertaining her with one impossible tale after another. And they only became more outrageous as they went. “You come up with the most ridiculous stories.”

“What are you talking about? They’re not ridiculous.”

“There is no way any of these are real.”

He shrugged. “Who’s to say they’re not?”

“The one about the spot by the library where Mrs. Kawalski got abducted by an alien?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But that story is real to Mrs. Kawalski, and that’s what matters, isn’t it?”

Tori giggled. She was in for a treat when she inevitably met the owner of the local bakery. “So you’re saying all the other stories really did happen?”

“I may have embellished a bit, but that’s what makes the stories interesting.” He planted his feet on the scooter once more and nodded toward something farther up the street. “Come on. I saved the best story for last.”

They rode in silence for a few blocks, the sidewalk beneath them lit only by the streetlamps now that the sun had officially departed. It was quiet downtown, what with all the stores and local businesses being closed at this hour. What did people in Bedland Shores do at nine o’clock at night without clubs or bars to hang out at? Or was riding around on scooters while giving a fake tour of the town their idea of nightlife?

“Here we are.”

Tori followed him as he rode his scooter up to what looked like a park. He abandoned it on the sidewalk and jogged over to a field of grass and red dirt with a diamond of painted white lines. “A baseball field?” she called after him. The grass was cool under her feet as she tried to catch up.

“Not just any baseball field. This one is haunted.”

“Haunted? Like with ghosts?” She didn’t believe in those kinds of things, but it didn’t stop the spread of goosebumps over her arms.

“In a sense. This is where Rivers had his accident.”

“Oh no, what kind of accident? Heart attack?”

“Peed his pants.” Tori’s head tilted and her forehead scrunched before he went on. “He was six.”

“Ah.”

“Yep, worst little league game of poor Rivers’s life.” He stared down at the ground and shook his head, looking truly dismayed for whoever this Rivers kid was, if he even really existed. “It was a pop fly headed straight for him. It should have been an easy catch. But he missed it, and their team lost. Then all the other kids laughed and teased him until he got so upset that he wet himself.”

“That’s terrible. But what does this have to do with the place being haunted?”

“Legend has it his shame was so great, it manifested into a spirit that hangs around here to this day, still trying to catch that fly ball. They say if you listen closely, you can hear him cry.”

Tori scanned the empty field around them, the quiet park. “We should play with him.”

“What?”

“We should play baseball with him. Maybe then Rivers can finally move on.”

He stood completely still, his gaze heavy on her like he was trying to solve some riddle before a broad grin spread over his face. “You know what? I think you’re exactly right.” He clapped his hands loudly then rubbed them together as he turned to the field. “Okay, you stand at the mound, and I’ll bat.”

“Got it.” Tori headed for the pitcher’s mound, her sky-blue dress fluttering against her lower thighs with each step. The red dirt was gritty and cold beneath her feet. There was no telling what this barefoot adventure was doing to the pedicure she’d gotten with Lettie yesterday, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.

Wyatt stood at home plate and cupped his hands around his mouth. “It’s the bottom of the sixth. The home team is up by one, but with the bases loaded and two strikes, the entire game is riding on this one play. Pitching for the Bedland Shores Sharks is Tori…”

He dropped his hands, his face lit up by another bright grin. “I just realized I don’t even know your last name.”

“Schaefer.”

He cupped his hands around his mouth again. “Tori Schaefer pitching for the home team. And in the outfield, the amazing, incomparable Rivers!” He threw his hands in the air, pantomiming a cheering crowd, and Tori added in her own claps and cheers for good measure.

The cheering quieted, then he held his hands out, lowering himself into a batter’s stance before taking a few practice swings with his invisible bat. “Up at bat for the Grover Island Manatees, Wyatt Rhoades.”

Tori booed, garnering a flat look from the announcer that only made her yell louder.

“Schaefer winds up the pitch. She lets loose.”

She drew her arm back and then forward in an awkward, halfhearted throw.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wild ball!” Wyatt yelled and jumped from the box. He pointed his imaginary bat. “Get it together, Schaefer.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“And watch the language. Try to remember there are children present.”

Tori tried to freeze him in place with her icy glare, but he only winked at her and stepped back into the box. She took a deep breath, wound the ball like she’d seen the pros on TV do, and let the ball fly.

Wyatt swung, let out a resounding crack, and her eyes followed the arc as if she could actually see the ball flying into the air. She heard Wyatt’s feet pound the ground as he jogged to first base. “It’s a pop fly headed straight for Rivers,” he shouted. “Can he make the catch that wins them the game?”

“Come on, Rivers! You’ve got this! You can do it!” she cheered. She could practically see the little six-year-old boy, his gloved hand raised above his head, could hear the ball smacking against the leathery palm. Her hands flew up. “He caught it! The Sharks win the game!”

“Yeah! Go, Rivers!” Wyatt raced to the outfield and lifted the imaginary boy up onto his shoulders. Tori ran up to him, jumping up and down at his side.

Together they chanted “Ri-vers! Ri-vers!” before they both collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily. Tori leaned back on her hands and dug her fingers into the soft grass as her lungs and heart slowed back to normal.

Beside her, Wyatt lay sprawled out on his back, still grinning. “Do you think it worked?”

She closed her eyes, listened to the background hum of crickets she hadn’t noticed before, and felt a wave of serenity wash over her. “Definitely. I can feel where his spirit is at peace.”

Wyatt sat up, and their eyes met. Despite the near darkness around them, his looked even brighter than they had on the beach. “You hungry?”

She stared down at her empty stomach. “Starving.”

“I don’t doubt it. With an arm like that, I bet you eat like a bodybuilder.” When she only glared at him, he chuckled. “I swear, that was all compliment.”

Tori’s poker face broke, and soon her laughter intertwined with his. He got to his feet and gently took her hand as she did the same.

“Come on. I know a place.”

“Really? The best I’ve ever had?”

“I’m telling you. Nobody this side of the border makes shrimp tacos like Jay. Nobody.”

“I’ll believe it when I taste it.” Tori stared longingly down at the brown paper bag in Wyatt’s hand. She’d thought she was hungry before, but it was nothing compared to how ravenous she was now. After riding the scooters back to the charging station by the beach, he’d finally led her to El Corazon del Mar—or just Del Mar to the locals, according to Wyatt—a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant down a minuscule alley she never would have found on her own.

Wyatt swore it was the best combination of seafood and authentic Mexican food she’d ever try in her life. And judging by the hunger pangs clawing through her stomach, she didn’t doubt it would taste like it at this point. She’d been close to drooling from the smell alone and near tears when Wyatt ordered their food to go.

They’d been walking along the beach for what felt like forever. The sky was dark, the only light on this stretch of sand coming from the full, white moon high in the sky. The cool ocean wind whipped around them, and Tori had to wrap herself tighter in the button-up shirt he’d offered to help keep her arms warm.

She silently sniffed the collar, a mix of detergent and cologne that warmed her more than the shirt. Was it weird that the smell comforted her so easily after only a few hours?

Her stomach groaned. “This looks like a good spot to eat, don’t you think?”

Wyatt looked out over the water before shaking his head. “Not quite. But we’re almost there.”

Her shoulders slumped as she continued to trudge after him for several more minutes, her stomach sounds growing even louder. “Hey, Wyatt?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember how I said my friend Lettie takes promises very seriously? So much so that she’ll likely do me physical harm if I break one.”

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, his dark blond hair made brighter by the moon’s glow. “Sure…”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I take promises about food even more seriously.”

Wyatt’s laugh rang out around them. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He took one more look out over the water before finally coming to a stop and nodding to himself. “Okay, this is it.”

Tori did her own quick survey of the beach where they stood, but the only difference between this spot and any of the others was a large rock formation visible in the middle of the water some hundred yards or so from shore. She was far too hungry to complain at this point. She collapsed into the sand, eyeing the bag of food and fighting the urge to tear it from his grip. Settling in beside her, he carefully opened the bag and reached in so slowly she knew it could only be to annoy her.

He unwrapped a taco and placed it in her hands. “There you go. And I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

Tori gave the taco one quick, skeptical look, took a bite, and moaned at the explosion of flavor. “Oh, wow, these are so good!”

“Right? I told you they were the best.” He pulled out his own taco from the bag, and they both ate in silence until her stomach finally felt satisfied.

She brushed her hands off and drew her knees to her chest while snuggling deeper into his shirt for warmth against the cool ocean wind.

Despite now only having a T-shirt and shorts to cover him, Wyatt didn’t appear the least bit cold. “So,” he said between chewing and swallowing, “you been liking Bedland Shores so far?”

“Honestly, tonight’s really the first I’ve gotten to see of it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A week.”

“Whoa. What have you been doing all this time?”

“What haven’t I been doing? Unpacking all my stuff in a new house, taking over my mom’s business. Turns out running your own is a lot more grueling and time-consuming than just being one of the many, many employees.”

“I can attest to that.” He dug into the paper sack and pulled out another taco. He offered it to Tori, who shook her head, before biting into it. “Don’t you have an assistant or someone to help you out?”

“I do. Back at my old place I had no problem using her or others to help me get it all done. But this is different. My mom built this place up from nothing, poured her heart and soul and probably a little blood into it, and it’s done so well. Now it’s mine, and there’s all this responsibility on me to keep it going just as well if not better than she did.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It is.” She’d yet to admit it to anyone, including herself, but she’d been silently freaking out about the whole thing for a couple weeks now—ever since she heard that her mom and stepfather were going to retire and travel through Europe, leaving the business and its empty calendar with her. Now that the words were out, Tori felt like Atlas finally releasing herself from the weight of the world. Even she hadn’t realized what a strain it had been putting on her. “No wonder Lettie ordered me to avoid work talk tonight. Which, of course, I’ve already failed miserably at.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Deal.” And now time to change the subject fast before she unwittingly admitted any other deep, embarrassing truths to a virtual stranger. Even if Wyatt did feel far from one for whatever reason. “So all that stuff about Rivers and Mr. Randall and the rest…”

“Yeah?”

“How did you get so good at coming up with stories like those?”

“I’m not sure.” He wiped his hands on his khaki shorts and rested his elbows on his knees. “My grandmother says I was always pretty creative and had an overactive imagination. I used to tell her stories all the time when I was a kid. Still do, actually.”

“You two are close?”

“Oh yeah. My parents moved away years ago. Aside from my sister, she’s the closest family I’ve got. I make sure to spend time with her at least once a week. Not that that’s much of a chore. My grandmother is a spitfire. As lively as they come.”

“She sounds great.”

Wyatt cocked his head to the side, and she could just make out the way his eyes danced as they followed her swirl of dark hair in the wind. Then they shifted down to settle on her own, and she felt, not for the first time that night, as if she’d somehow already known him for years. Did he notice the connection too, or was it all in her head?

“The stories really aren’t so hard. You just sort of make stuff up as you go. You try it.”

“What?”

“Come on, tell me something that happened right here.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. You be the tour guide. Tell me something about this town I don’t already know.”

“Um…okay, fine.” She searched the sand around them, the waves rising and receding on the shore only yards away. “Uh, you see that outcropping of rock over there?”

His eyes narrowed as he stared out at the lone, barren rock formation surrounded by the crashing waves. “Yes.”

“Okay, well. That spot is called Waiting Rock.” Tori had no clue what she was saying, but she closed her eyes to avoid Wyatt’s stare while simultaneously racking her brain for any kind of inspiration. “And it is where Henry Thompkins proposed to Edith Meyers.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

“Go on.”

“Well, uh, it was summer, and Henry Thompkins had just been drafted to fight in the Great War. He came to the coast on his last day before he shipped out.” She lowered one hand to the sand, her finger drawing slow spirals in the sand. “He swam out to the rock for fun and ran into Edith, and they sat on that rock for hours just talking. And even though they’d only just met, they had an instant connection. Henry knew that she was the one, so he proposed to her then and there, asking that she wait for him to come home to her, no matter how long it took.

“But a few months after going overseas, Henry went missing in action, and when the war ended, they still had no idea what happened to him, whether he’d died or was taken prisoner. Edith had faith that he was still alive. For years after the war ended, every day, she swam out to that rock and waited for him, knowing he’d come home to her someday.”

Tori’s cheeks grew hot. Where on earth had all that come from? She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “So, uh, how was that?”

Only silence responded. And when she forced herself to look up at him, his wide grin doubled the heat in her cheeks.

“That was…” He shook his head. “Incredible. Who knew you would turn out to be such a romantic?”

“Ironic, considering I don’t have a lot of personal experience in that area.” She traced another shape in the sand, this time an infinity loop that she couldn’t stop.

“That can’t be true.”

“Oh, but it is. I’ve dated, of course, but nothing that ever lasted. Lettie says I’m too focused on my job.”

“Right, the workaholic thing.”

“Yup. I guess I always hoped it would be different when I found the right guy. But after a while you just start to wonder if maybe it’s actually been you the whole time.” Of course, she had no problem helping other people find happiness in their love lives. Life really could be unfair sometimes.

Like, for instance, her current inability to keep her mouth shut around the first man she’d felt any semblance of a connection with in years. She laughed humorlessly to herself. “Great, now I’m two for two with the deep, dark secrets tonight.” What was it about this Wyatt Rhoades guy that made it so easy for her to open up to him? “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not that lucky in the romance area.”

She continued tracing the infinity in the sand, not really seeing it anymore. A warm, firm hand reached for hers, wrapped around it, and held it tightly. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

He held her hand open in his, palm up, and started tracing the tip of his finger lightly over it. A series of random swipes and curls that tickled her palm. “I know exactly what you mean.” He craned his neck until his eyes were staring into hers. “But something tells me our luck might already be changing.”