I thought an open bar was going to be my saving grace at this reception. After making awkward conversation with my parents this morning and then being lugged around half of New York City for wedding photos, I’m feeling sour. Luckily, my mother and father didn’t come to the party. Neither of them drinks or stays up late, so they just skipped out.

The tension they bring into my life seems to be resting in a curled up knot at the base of my neck right now. This white wine isn’t taking away my stress like I hoped it would. Instead, my head is starting to ache along with my feet.

Some fresh air and a cigarette will make me feel better. At least Julia is too preoccupied with Parker and all the well-wishers to give me a lecture about cancer and wrinkles and the smell of smoke and blah, blah, blah. I know her heart’s in the right place, but the speeches get old. With my clutch and wine in tow, I make my way out to the balcony. A little space from this crowd can only help.

The cool, dark metal wrapping around the generous deck soothes my skin. If I were alone right now, I’d probably rub my forehead along the railing to soak in the calming, cool sensation. Just like how Mom used to put a cold, wrung out washcloth across my eyes and let me lie in bed when I got too worked up as a child. I remember how sometimes I would pretend to be overwhelmed just so I’d get that special time with her. The way she would sing me “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and run her hand through my hair always lifted my spirits.

“Seriously, Lisa, I’m not dropping everything every time you have a rotten day. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me what you want for once!” The exasperated pleas of a man talking on his cell phone in the back corner of the deck interrupt my thoughts.

Sounds like I’m not the only one having a bad night. In a weird way, that makes me feel a little better.

“I said I can’t do this tonight. I have to go!” He sounds more upset than I am.

Great, I lost my lighter! Snapping my clutch shut in disgust, I look at the cigarette between my fingers with longing. I guess I really am just going to enjoy the fresh air. Yuck.

“Can I get that for you?” The irritated phone guy steps out of the shadows and grabs a lighter from his jacket pocket.

When he catches my eye, I’m surprised. I know him. Well, know is too strong. I met him a couple years ago.

“Isabella?” The flame from his lighter dances sensually in front of my cigarette like a private striptease. I lean in, taking a long haul as he cups his hand around mine, and my skin comes alive, tingling up my arm.

“You remember my name? I’m impressed.” I try to be cool, but inside my stomach is jelly.

Colt Grant remembers my name? How did he get better looking in the last two years? His body is tight, not that I’m staring or anything. I’m trying damn hard to hold back from staring. Instead, I decide to focus on his hazel eyes, glimmering under the dim light streaking out the window, casting a glow that makes me feel like I’m in a dream. I stand up straight, returning his broad smile.

“Of course I do. How could I forget?”

I think my kneecaps just melted. He’s smooth, I’ll give him that. And I could use a little smooth after my rough day.

“Beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” Pulling my eyes away from his, I look out over the black skyline and lean against the railing.

“It was, but I was a little distracted.”

I’m guessing whoever was on the other end of that phone call was the cause.

“Yeah. I know I was supposed to be focusing on Julia and Parker, but I couldn’t get over how stunning you looked up there. Julia’s going to be angry that you stole her spotlight,” he teases.

Despite my best efforts, a smile spreads over my face. “Well, I don’t think that’s true. But thank you.” I look down, unable to return the intensity of his gaze.

Who looks at someone like that? I need to catch my breath, and I know it isn’t from smoking. “It’s nice to see you too, Colt.”

“Ahh, so you remember my name too.”

“Of course I do. Would you like to come inside with me and get a drink?” I tap the side of my empty wine glass and watch as his face clouds over.

“Trust me, there’s nothing I’d love to do more, Isabella. But I don’t think I can stay. I have some things to take care of, and it’s getting late.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s totally fine. Honestly, I should probably get moving too. It’s been a long day.” I’m fighting with every muscle in my face to hide my disappointment.

“No, no. You’re not getting away that easy this time.” He smirks. “I’d like to get your number if you’re free. Maybe we could go out for dinner or drinks another time?” He palms his phone, hovering his thumb over the screen, ready for my dictation.

I wasn’t expecting that. “Oh, uh, sure. I’d like that.” I watch him type my number into his address book.

“Got it! Two-four-eight-three,” he mumbles to the screen. “Well, it won’t take as long for us to meet up again, I promise.” His smile is impossible not to return.

“I hope not.”