4. Dancing with the Devil

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Crap

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Crap. He saw me. Now, what do I do? 

Slinking behind a nearby column, I chew the edge of my lip. Maybe he'll lose interest. You know—out of sight, out of mind. Or maybe he wasn't coming for me at all. I pull my phone out and open Instagram, scrolling to look busy just in case.

"Hello, there, beautiful."

My jaw flexes, and my lashes press down against my cheeks. Of course, that's his opener. 

Keeping my eyes glued to my phone, I don't immediately respond. My experience is that if I ignore something long enough, it either goes away or snowballs into something ten times worse. Let's hope it's the first one tonight.

"Well, here I am, Leigh. Charlie Hartwell, at your service." He does a dramatic bow. "So... what are your other two wishes?"

My heart stops. Crap. Does he know about the spell? Did Sydney send him over here as a sick joke? I bet she did, that witch! My eyes slowly rise to meet his, and he must register the horrified look on my face because he immediately starts to backtrack.

He rubs at the back of his neck. "Sorry. That was a stupid line, wasn't it? I can do better. Let's start over. My name's Charlie—the groom's best friend... if you can't tell by my dapper outfit tonight." 

He winks and does a graceful mini pirouette, hoping to make me laugh, but I can't encourage him, not guys like this one—especially because he is, unfortunately, pretty darn cute. My face remains blank and aloof, and he falters again.

"So... I, uh, I hear you're Ren's cousin?"

"Yeah," flashing my eyes straight to my phone and resting my back against the column, keeping my expression dull and apathetic.

One-word answers oughtta shut him down.  I might find it difficult to keep a conversation going, but I am rather good at killing it. My heart brightens a bit, and I try not to smile smugly.

He quiets, so after a minute passes, I lift my gaze a bit to check that he's still there. My eyes meet him right at crotch level. Shit, he's staying put. He shifts his weight to his other foot, and I notice how his slacks almost hug his thick upper thigh, pulling the fabric taught in places... 

My eyes linger there just a few seconds too long. 

"Like what you see there?"

Crap! 

"No," I respond with such speed and intensity that it is all too telling that I'm flustered. Flashing my eyes back to my phone, I rapidly scroll through a blur of images as my cheeks heat. "I don't know what you're talking about."  

"On your phone.  You can't take your eyes off it."

"Oh." My heartbeat slows again. "I'm sorry," I say, looking up at him with a cattie smile. "I didn't realize you were still there." 

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