Addiction

Chapter 2-3

THE RECEPTION VENUE was a huge old barn, converted and updated with all modern conveniences. Fairy lights twinkled inside on a giant black swathe of a back-drop, and the tables were tastefully decorated with floral and diamante center-pieces. He paused to sniff a white lily, the pollen tickling his nose as he inhaled. Running his fingers along the table, scattering the small crystal rhinestones dotted on the top, he realized there were no place cards.

At a loss as to where to sit, he found his way to the bar, where he ordered a soda and settled in to await the arrival of the guests of honor. Somehow, he managed to strike up a conversation with a middle-aged accountant – the most regrettable conversation of his life thus far – and literally groaned in relief when the rest of the wedding party arrived a short time later amidst cat-calls and whoops of joy.

He had to admit they looked good together. His father, with his suave good looks and his athletic physique stood beside his glowing bride who rested her head against his upper arm in a show of tenderness. But looks could be deceiving, as he knew well. How many times had his parents put on a public show of affection for the benefit of one of Harry's cronies? Too many, and more times than not, as soon as the public eye had moved on, they retreated to their own sides of the house.

“Welcome,” called the woman in a soft and joyous tone. “It's so good to see you all here today to celebrate our wedding.” She blushed, her cheeks glowing a riotous pink. “I'm sure you're all wondering about the seating plan.” She smiled suddenly, her face lighting up. “Could you all please gather in the middle of the room, for a moment?”

With perplexed expressions, the guests made their way to the dance floor, leaving the tables behind them. Logan kept to the fringes of the group, wondering as much as anyone what the hell was going on.

The woman smiled again before gesturing to the tables ringed around the parquet floor. “Whoever you're standing beside, abandon them,” she encouraged, waving her hands in a quickly-quickly motion. “Now, whoever you ended up with is your dinner partner.”

“Highly unconventional,” one lady muttered, taking the hand of a young man and allowing herself to be seated between a lady with an extremely short skirt and an older gentleman with a paunch, while the young man took up the seat on the other side of the short-skirted-girl.

“Fantastic idea,” another gray-haired man announced, eagerly following a slender brunette to a table. “I usually end up in the same company at these things.”

“Looks like you're with me.” He smiled at the pretty blond who was busy making 'oh-no-you-didn't' eyes at the bride.

“Looks like,” she agreed, allowing herself to be guided to the nearest table. He watched in fascination as she smoothed the material of her dress over her rounded ass before sitting on the chair he'd pulled out for her.

An elderly man in a ghastly tweed suit plonked himself in the chair Logan had earmarked as his own, leaving the only unoccupied seat directly across from his target. Well, damn. With a rueful shake of his head, he seated himself, and filled a glass of water from the jug, offering it in turn to the person seated next to him – a business-like woman with short red hair in spikes, who was busy rocking an acid green mini-dress. What an eclectic group of guests.

To his other side was a young girl of approximately seven years old, with a freckle-spattered button nose and two missing front teeth. “Hi,” she grinned, showing off the gap in her teeth.

“Hi,” he replied, filling her glass when the business-woman declined, preferring her scotch on the rocks.

“Will you dance with me later?” the little girl asked.

He noticed the blond paying close attention and afforded her a long look before answering. “Of course I will,” he replied, winking. “But I might step on your feet a little.”

She giggled, hiding behind her hands. “Maybe you should practice first.”

“What a good idea.” His gaze bored into the pretty girl sitting across from him. “Would you care to take one for the team?” he inquired with a mocking grin.

“I um...” Her gaze swung left and right, but the other occupants of the table were all busily conversing with one another. “I would be, um, glad to?”

“Is that a question or a statement?” he asked, c*****g a brow and sipping from his water glass.

“A statement,” she replied more surely. “I'll dance with you.”

Her blush was a joy to behold, making her face seem younger and more innocent. “I'll hold you to that.”

*

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