You Can't Hurry Love Read Online Free Page B

it was true. No need to get sentimental. Seventy-two hours. If he avoided her as much as possible, he’d manage just fine. Who knew? Maybe she was married and the mom of three kids, and she’d left her husband at home. And her wedding and engagement rings, too—because there’d been none in sight last night.
    One could hope, right? Or he could always lie and say he was married . . . no, no, he couldn’t. Because the only thing he had in his past was their busted relationship, along with another broken engagement. At least he was consistent when it came to romance.
    He crossed the lobby, entered the restaurant, and came right into range of the very woman he wanted to avoid.
    Elisabeth sat at a table by herself, engrossed in doing something on her cell phone. He could pretend he hadn’t seen her and ask to be seated at another table—the smarter option—or prove he could handle the next three days without his emotions going on a roller-coaster ride.
    With a nod, he indicated to the hostess that he was with Elisabeth, strolling over to stand beside her table. “So the question is, are you singing the melody or the harmony?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?” His appearance at her table caused Elisabeth to almost drop her phone.
    â€œWhen we do the toast at the reception tomorrow night, do you want to lead out, or handle backup vocals?” Jamie slipped into the seat across from her.
    â€œYou are not seriously thinking of singing the toasts—”
    â€œTori said we could do whatever we wanted.” Jamie shifted in the chair, stretching his legs out to the side. “I don’t think we have to write a whole new song. We could put lyrics to a song like ‘I Got You Babe,’ or ‘YMCA.’ ”
    â€œI am not singing a toast to Tori.” Elisabeth sipped on a bright green smoothie, barely making eye contact with him.
    â€œWell, it’s going to look pretty odd if I sing and you don’t.”
    â€œAnd making up some awkward, they-tried-too-hard toast to an old song that we sing together is going to impress everyone?”
    â€œI suppose you want to do something typical, like having us recount favorite memories of Tori and Peter—”
    Elisabeth sat up, her mouth thinning into a straight line, even as her soft teal sweater slipped just a bit to reveal a glimpse of her shoulder. Angry schoolmarm and a little bit of unexpected alluring femininity—and she didn’t even know she was giving off mixed messages.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with that?”
    â€œEveryone does that, that’s what’s wrong with that, Elisabeth. We need to do something better.”
    â€œToasting Tori and Peter is not a competition, Jamie. No one is grading us.”
    Her attempt to put him in his place only made him laugh. How had he forgotten how her big blue eyes could spark electricity at him? “Spoken like a teacher. What’s wrong with wanting to make a lasting memory for Peter and Tori?”
    â€œI think your idea of making a memory and my idea of making a memory are two very different things.”
    The waiter interrupted their debate, giving Jamie time to scan the menu and order a lobster scramble and coffee. He motioned to her glass. “Do you want anything else?”
    â€œNo, I’m good with this.”
    â€œGreen . . . slime?”
    â€œIt’s healthy. I make smoothies for breakfast most mornings.”
    With a final request for extra cream, Jamie turned his attention to Elisabeth again. “So tell me how you met Tori.”
    His question seemed to catch Elisabeth off guard. “How I met Tori?”
    â€œYes. That’s simple enough, right? No lyrics involved.”
    â€œWe met during college. We were both education majors at Biola and then we ended up student teaching at the same middle school. Now I teach English in the Springs and she teaches math in Wichita, but we’re still good