Falling Like Snowflakes (38 page)

Come on, God, a little help here
.

Her eyes fell on Murphy as she set down a medium pepperoni at the next table and began serving slices.

No. Absolutely not. For reasons too numerous to mention.

She gave a mechanical smile to the couple and went for more refills. Maybe he was single. And yes, attractive. But he was also a friend of Jack's. She was surprised he wasn't in the wedding, but then Jessica had probably insisted that Jack choose her brothers.

She looked out the tinted window to the snowy landscape. Fat snowflakes drifted to the white carpet. It was beautiful, she had to admit. Perfect day for a winter wedding. If things had gone differently, it might have been
her
day.

A loud slurp drew her eyes to Murphy's table. He set his empty cup down and took another bite of his pizza.

Fine. One more refill.

A minute later she set the drink on Murphy's table and turned to go.

“Layla . . .” He touched her arm. “Wait.”

His touch sent a jolt of something through her. His fingers still rested lightly there. She turned, raising her brows.

“Do you . . . need a ride? To the wedding? The roads are getting bad.”

She stared into his eyes. He had a way of catching her completely off guard. Always had. Even back when they'd been friends, back before she and Jack had gotten together.

“I mean—you probably have a date . . .”

“I did. Two hours ago. Cooper came down with strep.”

He scratched his neck. “I'm going alone, so . . .”

“Oh.”

Was this the answer? Was God sending her the most unlikely of lifelines?

And the real question: was she really that desperate?

Sadly, she knew the answer to that one.

“So,” he said.

She shifted her weight. “Yeah, thanks. A ride would be great.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before she could guess what it was.

“Pick you up at five thirty?”

“Sure.” Layla turned away before she could reconsider. Before she could wonder why her knees were knocking too hard to hold her upright.

Showing up at her ex-fiancé's wedding with Murphy was infinitely better than showing up alone. Wasn't it?

The story continues in
A December Bride
by Denise Hunter.

About the Author

B
estselling novelist Denise Hunter has received the Holt Medallion Award, Reader's Choice Award, Foreword Book of the Year Award, and is a RITA finalist. She lives in Indiana with her husband and their three sons.

Visit her website at
www.denisehunterbooks.com

Twitter:
@deniseahunter

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