they’ve tried some unorthodox methods to get the jump on us. Once I had to outrun a pack of Dobermans they’d released at a site.”
“Wow. So, what…you’re kind of like the Indiana Jones of the geology world?”
“You could say that.” He winked. “I have the hat, anyway.”
“What about the whip?”
He snapped his fingers with a look of exaggerated regret. “Left it with the pocket protector, darn.”
A killer smile, big vocabulary and a sense of humor. Twenty minutes into this conversation, and Celia already knew she was a goner. “So, how do you know I’m not working for the other guys?”
“I could see it in your face when I brought up the new cave and the possibility of valuable minerals. That stuff’s a geologist’s wet dream.” He looked chagrined, though Celia couldn’t understand why he would think she cared about a little sexual terminology when she’d cursed in his face a few minutes ago. “Sorry. I get carried away.”
“Sometimes,” Celia said, “it’s good to get carried away.”
They stared at each other for a long, long moment before Lisa stumbled up to them and threw her arm around Celia’s shoulders. She gave Luke a bleary, narrow-eyed look. “Hey. Who’s this?”
“Luke, this is my cousin Lisa. She’s getting married next week.”
“To Denny!” Lisa cried, then tossed both her hands in the air, making rock horns with her fingers. “Wooooooo! Yeah! Fuck yeah! Celia, why aren’t you dancing? C’mon, I love this song, let’s dance.”
Lisa grabbed at Celia’s hand, than Luke’s. “You too! C’mon dance with my pretty cousin, she’s so pretttty. She’s single! Celia’s single!”
Lisa was a loud drunk. Fun, but loud. And not at all subtle. Celia let herself be pulled along and wound up facing Luke on the dance floor while the DJ spun another mash-up. Lisa grabbed Melody and Brit, pushing herself between them as the three began a ridiculously silly bump-n-grind that had everyone on the dance floor cheering. Celia rolled her eyes.
“They are going to be so sad tomorrow morning.” She had to push onto her tiptoes to shout this in Luke’s ear, since the music was so much louder over here.
His hands rested naturally on her hips as he pulled her closer. His lips brushed her ear as he replied, “Poor them.”
Then, they danced.
Luke was an excellent dancer, not the line-dancing sort but with a natural rhythm that kept them both bopping to the beat in perfect time. He spun her out, then in. Her hands settled on his shoulders as they moved together, and Celia forgot about the ache in her toes and the soles of her feet. She never wanted to stop.
Of course, she had to. It wasn’t even near closing time, but the other women in their party were stumbling drunk and Celia still hadn’t managed to catch sight of Dana. That made her nervous, because even though Dana was a grown woman who should be able to take care of herself, Celia had volunteered to be the designated driver and she guessed that meant babysitter too.
“I have to use the restroom,” she told Luke as the song slowed a little and gave them a chance to breathe. “And find my cousin’s friend. She’s probably in there.”
Luke nodded but looked reluctant as he let her go. “Hurry back.”
Impulsively, Celia touched his cheek. “You’re sweet.”
He groaned, clutching his heart. “Kiss of death!”
“No, no,” she laughed, shaking her head, “it’s a good thing. Really.”
Luke caught her hand and kissed the knuckles, but let her go as she tugged away. She backed up to keep him in her sight as long as she could before turning with a giggle and a grin as she pushed through the swinging batwing doors into the corridor leading to the bathrooms. That was where she found Dana, headfirst in the toilet. Recoiling, her exuberance punctured like a balloon, Celia covered her mouth and nose and peeked into the stall again.
“Dana?”
Without lifting her head, Dana flung up a hand. Thumbs up. “’M’good!”
“You don’t look good.”
“’M’okay!”
A tall, broad-shouldered gal in a denim skirt and a black Harley-Davidson tank top came out of the other stall to flash a grin at Celia. “She’s okay. She’s been in there for about an hour. Let her get it out of her system, she will eventually.” The woman washed her hands at the sink and gave Celia a look from the mirror’s reflection. “Can’t hold her liquor, huh?”
“Apparently not,” Celia said, then added like an excuse, “bachelorette party.”
“Yours?”
“Oh, hell no. I’ll never do that again.” It came out more vehement than she’d intended, but the woman just nodded knowingly.
“I hear you, honey. I went through it three times before I learned my lesson.”
“Once was enough for me.” Celia looked dubiously into the stall. Now Dana was cradling her cheek on her palm, right there on the toilet seat. Eyes closed. A strangely blissful smile on her face. “Um…”
“She’ll be okay. Get her home, try to get her to drink some water. She’ll be hurting tomorrow though. She’s not the one getting married tomorrow, is she?”
“No, it’s my cousin Lisa’s party. And the wedding’s not until next week.” Thank God, Celia thought as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Eyes bright, face flushed, hair wild. If the wedding had been a few hours from now, all of them would’ve been hurting.
“Need me to call you a cab?” The woman turned from the sink and studied Dana.
“You can get a cab out here?”
The woman grinned. “Sure. Depends on how far you have to go, but sure.”
The plan had been for Celia to drive everyone home to Lisa’s house in Palmyra, about thirty minutes away, but as tempting as it was to toss Dana in a cab to let a stranger deal with the possibility of puke in his backseat, she couldn’t do that. “I haven’t been drinking. I’ll drive her home.”
“Good luck, hon.” The woman winked and left the bathroom.
Celia leaned in. “Dana, I’ll be right back. I’m going to find Lisa and get out of here, okay?”
No answer but a soft snore. If Celia had been the sort to snap a picture with her camera phone and upload it to one of those embarrassing photo blogs, this would’ve been the perfect shot. Instead, she sighed and headed back into the bar to round up the other bachelorettes. No easy task, she discovered, when Lisa decided she wasn’t ready to go home until everyone danced with her to the Cha-Cha Slide. Twice.
Everyone but Celia, who’d only do that sort of dance at the point of a knife, which is what it felt like someone was doing to her toes. Screw it. She didn’t trust
