Jori and Law took seats at her parents’ table to eat and listen to speeches, some heartfelt, others hopelessly inept, and then watched the cutting of the cake. Jori was pleased to hear her father’s calm voice chatting with Law from time to time. She didn’t know what her father said but Law seemed to relax and respond with more than his famous one-word answers. Maybe he was enjoying himself. Or maybe he was just doing it for her. Either way, she was grateful.
Her mother, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to cram six months’ worth of gossip and family news into their first chat. Jori couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the sheer energy of her mother’s enthusiasm. But it also felt better to be face-to-face with her than avoiding her. She’d been wrong to do that. Even if, she realized, she was going to have to limit her exposure to all that joy. A lunch here, a dinner there, sprinkled out over weeks. Little measurable dips into the family pool until she was comfortable with full immersion.
She loved her parents dearly. But they were seeing her as the daughter she had been four years ago, just finishing college, not yet on her own. She could hear it in the way they talked to her. For them she was still a woman-child who wasn’t quite ready to launch. But she wasn’t that person anymore. She was different. Not bad different, just different enough that their experiences of the world no longer matched. She was going to have to give them time and exposure to learn the new her. And accept it.
A couple of times she caught her brother’s eye from where he sat with his bride at their private table. Each time he winked then rolled his eyes. He understood.
*
Law had waited for his moment to talk with Erin Tice. It came at the end of the evening. Jori had wandered away to find the ladies’ room. So he was, for the moment, on his own. His stump throbbed. He’d been standing too long on a prosthesis that didn’t fit as well as it once had. When he moved, his limp was more pronounced. He was going to ache all night. Or not. Maybe he’d bury all his troubles in the sweet warmth of Jori and his pain would no longer rule his dreams. Something to look forward to. That was a novelty, and a welcome one.
The bride and groom had departed and the lights in the ballroom had been turned down and tables pushed back in order for the younger guests to finish getting their dance party on. Things were about to get drunker and looser, and certainly more interesting.
But he couldn’t very well just approach Luke Tice’s wife, even if they had been introduced. He’d have to bring her to him. He knew just how to do that.
As she danced with a stranger, he gave her a hot hard glance, eyes stopping at her breasts and then hip level before sliding away. She bristled, but she glanced back after a few steps. Law looked away, no trace of his real thoughts on his face. Enough eye contact, and she’d find a way to wander over to him. Eventually.
Eventually lasted only five minutes.
Erin came dancing up to him at the end of a song, a bottle of champagne in hand and eyes wide with me-likey avarice. “You’ve been watching me, Mr. Battise.”
Law met her flirtatious smile with a bland expression. “Have I?”
Her smile turned up at the corners. “I might be married but I’m still a woman. I notice these things.”
“If you say so.”
“Dance with me.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled. He didn’t move. Not even an inch. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy.”
“I don’t dance.” Law patted his left leg. Sam sat up.
“Oh, right.” When Erin looked up from his leg, he noticed her pupils were unusually wide even for the lighting, engulfing the blue of her eyes. “How about we find a quiet place to chat?”
“Can’t do that.”
She frowned. “Does Jori keep you on a tight leash?”
He smiled just a bit. “No one will ever do that.”
Erin’s smile returned. “So you were just throwing her off the scent before?”
“How’s that?”
“By saying she’s the best lay you ever had.” She turned her head to cast a glance around the room before looking back at him and sliding a hand up his arm. “I think you were really issuing me a challenge.”
“Honey, if that’s your idea of flirtation, you need to meet a better class of men.” He casually brushed her hand from his arm.
She smiled slowly, her gaze drifting below his waist as she replaced her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I do like a challenge.”
Law looked down at her hand where a four-carat diamond sparkled and then back at her. Her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had gone cakey from the heat of dancing. She was not yet thirty but there was a hard edge already to the curve of her smile. Something was riding her, but it wasn’t going to be him.
“Is this the game you played with Brody Rogers? Or were you more than fuck buddies?” He leaned in so that he couldn’t be overheard. “Rogers was high the night he died, Mrs. Tice. He’d just come from your place. Did you two do a few rails to celebrate his broken engagement?”
She snatched her hand back. “Who are you?”
“Just an officer of the law. If you’ll excuse me.”