The Wedding March. Tara Randel

here. You’re here. Go introduce yourself.”

      Did she dare? He’d left the business for a reason. Besides, he was working. Maybe he didn’t want her fawning all over him.

      “I... He...”

      “You’d better come up with better lyrics than that,” her sister advised as she swooshed off across the room.

      Cassie slowly turned. Made her way to the wall where she slumped against it while the wheels turned in her mind. Luke Hastings, a man she’d admired for his song-crafting ability, in the same room as she. Did she dare introduce herself? What did she have to lose?

      * * *

      LUKE HASTINGS LOOKED up from a quick tuning to find the pretty woman he’d spoken to leaning against the wall. She stared at him, as if she’d seen a ghost.

      He might as well be, at least in the music industry. He’d walked away from a lucrative career, turned his back on the one thing he loved most in his life, writing music. Sought refuge in this small town after a public divorce cut his heart and soul to shreds. Yeah, he was a ghost and intended on keeping it that way.

      “Luke, did you bring the extra music in case we get requests?” his buddy Ryan asked from his position behind the keyboard.

      The band had practiced the bride and groom’s preselected songs, which Luke could play with his eyes closed, but they always kept backup for the odd song a reception guest requested. Luke set his Mac computer on the stand beside him and booted it up. After a few clicks, the music program opened and the band synced together.

      “Got it.” Luke glanced over at the drums. “Where’s Sonny?”

      Ryan scanned the room then smiled. “Hitting on one of the guests.”

      Luke chuckled. “He does know we’re starting in five?”

      “Yeah.” Ryan waved. “Here he comes.”

      Sonny jumped onto the stage and held up his cell, a goofy grin stretching his lips. “I got her number.”

      Brian, the bass player, slapped him on the back. “Great. You can call her when we’re finished.”

      “Dude, you’re killing me.”

      Luke nodded to the empty seat behind the drums. “You have a job to do.”

      Sonny stepped over the amp chords and picked up his sticks.

      Luke loved his buddies like brothers, but sometimes he had to rein them in. Sonny constantly looked for a girlfriend, Ryan constantly worried over money since he’d recently become a new dad, and Brian, well, if he were any more laid-back, he’d be asleep. Luke was the glue that held this small wedding band, Sandy Palms, together.

      “Hey, who’s the cutie you were talking to?” Sonny asked Luke. “Maybe I can get her number, too.”

      “Daughter of the groom.”

      “She got a name?”

      “Yeah. Sit your butt down and play.”

      Sonny frowned. “That’s not a very nice name.”

      Luke shook his head. “Please, sit. We’re about to start.”

      Sonny took his place and before long, the group started the first song of the set. A few people made their way to the dance floor. Others mingled or finished their meal. After the second song, Luke spoke into the microphone.

      “Welcome, everyone, to the wedding reception of the newly married Robert and Angelica Branford. Let’s give them a big round of applause as they have their first dance as a married couple.”

      The smiling couple came forward, dancing to a special song picked out by the bride. Since the couple were the parents, the next dance included the daughters. Luke watched the woman he’d spoken to skirt around her father to dance with the bride, not missing the frown on her father’s face at her evasive move. Soon, though, Luke’s attention shifted back to the song. Before long others filled the dance floor. They played five more songs, then took a break.

      “I’m off,” Sonny said, jumping from the stage, in search of Miss Right.

      Ryan pulled his cell from his pocket. “I need to call Julie. Check on the baby.”

      Brian shrugged. “Guess I’ll get a drink.”

      As his band members dispersed, Luke unplugged his guitar. He normally didn’t mingle when they played a gig. Most folks in town had heard his history, but for the most part they knew him as a local teacher and left him alone, which suited him fine. He’d put together the band as a musical outlet and as a way for him and his buddies to earn extra cash.

      “Excuse me?”

      He glanced over to find the daughter of the groom looking up at him, noticing first her striking green eyes, made a deeper shade by the emerald dress she wore, then the indecision written all over her features. “Can I help you?”

      “I think so. I hope so, anyway.” She bit her lower lip, then said, “You’re Luke Hastings.”

      Great. He knew by her tone she recognized him as the songwriter, not the teacher. “That’s right.”

      Her tentative smile spread, lighting up the deep green hue. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

      Here we go. “You’ve heard of Sandy Palms, have you?”

      Her smile faded and she blinked. He’d thrown her off, just as he’d hoped. “Sandy Palms?”

      “Our band.”

      “Um, honestly, no. I’m not from around here. I mean, not any longer.”

      She didn’t move and he guessed more small talk would be coming.

      “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get ready for the next set.”

      “Oh, of course.”

      And of course he’d hurt her feelings. He really wanted to see the sparkle return to those amazing eyes.

      “Wait.” He stepped from the platform. “Do you play?”

      “Yes. I’m—”

      “Let me guess. A songwriter?”

      “At times.”

      He chuckled. “Either you are or aren’t.”

      “At this moment in time, no.”

      “As opposed to other moments?”

      She shrugged, the light in her eyes dimming. He tilted his head, intrigued. Then straightened. Stop, his inner voice scolded. He didn’t need a female distraction.

      Still, it had been a long time since he’d been floored by a woman’s eyes.

      “I didn’t mean to bother you,” she was saying. “I’m a fan and wanted to say hi.”

      “You have me at a disadvantage.”

      “I’m Cassie Branford.” After a slight hesitation, she held out her hand.

      “Well, Cassie, nice meeting you.” He took her hand in his, surprised by the zing accompanying the gesture.

      “No, the pleasure is all mine. I remember—”

      She stopped when her father approached, losing the airiness from just a second ago. She broke the connection, leaving him bummed that he hadn’t heard more.

      “Mr. Branford,” he greeted the groom. “Congratulations.”

      The man barely acknowledged him, focused instead on his daughter.

      “Cassandra, you aren’t thinking of joining the band for a number, are you?”

      Number? What was he talking about?

      “No. I was just talking to Luke.”