The band wasn’t slow. They saw what was going on, and swung into Brooks and Dunn. “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” began blaring from the speakers. A couple of women squealed, and several of them hurried to align themselves with Bishop and Evelyn, stomping and scootin’ and clapping. Bishop was laughing, his usual sardonic expression completely missing in action, and Evelyn was laughing in return whenever she missed a step.

“Thank you,” the groom said, coming up beside Jaclyn and handing her a cold, frosty bottle of beer.

Surprised, she automatically took the beer. “For what?”

He was a little sweaty from his own efforts on the dance floor, his hair falling forward onto his forehead, his eyes sparkling and his color high. He nodded toward his mother. “For making Mom laugh.”

So he wasn’t completely oblivious to the turmoil he was putting his family through, as she’d thought. If he was going into this marriage with his eyes open, he might actually have a chance to pull it off, though she was fairly certain that would mean separating his bride from her current crowd of friends. On the other hand, he might fit in with that crowd better than she thought, in which case Evelyn probably had some sleepless nights filled with worry in her future. You just never knew with people. And because you didn’t know, because she couldn’t fix things even if she did know, Jaclyn smiled and took a sip of the beer. “Don’t thank me, at any rate. Thank Bishop. I had no idea he even knew what line dancing was.”

“Who is he? Your boyfriend? I thought the cop was.”

He didn’t seem upset at the idea that people he didn’t know were at his wedding, drinking and eating. “No, Bishop is the florist who did your flowers. He usually leaves as soon as he has everything in place, but today he decided to stick around. I’m sorry, I should have asked permission.” The fact that she hadn’t, that the idea hadn’t even occurred to her, was a testament to how off-balance the whole day had been for her.

He waved her apology away. “That’s fine. Doesn’t matter to me. So the cop’s your boyfriend?”

She opened her mouth to deny that, too, then realized that if she did, she had no ready explanation for Eric’s presence. She could either explain the whole complicated series of events, which she didn’t want to do, or she could let everyone think she habitually invited friends to the weddings she oversaw, which was in most ways worse than telling the truth. But if she said he was on duty—he was, wasn’t he?—she ran the risk of half the guests bolting, and ruining the party. Evidently they had all decided he was there only because he was dating her, and for some reason that made him less threatening. “Kind of,” she finally said, lamely.

“Thought so.” The groom clinked his bottle with hers, winked, and wandered away in search of his new wife.

Jaclyn looked at the bottle of beer in her hand. She should set it down; she wasn’t much of a drinker, and she never drank anything alcoholic when she was on a job. The problem with this job was that she was more bystander than organizer, she’d already done everything she could do short of getting the bride and groom in a car—please, God, soon—and, damn it, she was hot and thirsty and the beer was cold and wet. She wasn’t crazy about beer, but what the hell. She tilted the bottle and drank some more.

She had almost finished the beer when an arm suddenly clamped around her waist and she looked up, startled, into Mullet Head’s smiling face. “C’mon, sweet thing, let’s dance!” And he began dragging her toward the dance floor.

Eric had been keeping his distance, more out of respect for the fact that Jaclyn was working than for any other reason, but he’d positioned himself, at the back of the tent close to the tables of food, where he could keep an eye on her. The location had turned out to be doubly advantageous. He’d had beer and barbecue pressed on him; he’d refused the beer and taken the barbecue, along with sides of potato salad and coleslaw. There were a few soft drinks and juices available, for the kids, so he drank a soft drink and ignored how good an icy beer would taste. The barbecue was damn good. The minister said it was because he set an open can of beer inside the barbecue grill and then kept the grill closed while the meat cooked; supposedly the hot beer added moisture to the meat and made it tender. Maybe there was truth to that, because the meat was outstanding.