Free Bonfire Beach by Lily Everett

grimacing at the tangles, and wished she had a rubber band to tie it back the way she did for her kickboxing classes at the gym. This conversation was every bit as much of a fight.
    Zane shrugged. “So? People like a spectacle.”
    “At a wedding, people like romance,” she argued. “And a hard-drinking, hard-living hard rock band doesn’t scream romance.”
    “Romance.” Zane’s upper lip curled. “The best thing we could do for Miles is help his wedding transcend the usual tired clichés. Let’s give them all something to remember! A unique wedding experience they’ll never forget.”
    Felicity kicked her bare toes against the white-painted floorboards to set the porch swing into furious motion. “I don’t know how to explain this to you, but Miles and Greta don’t care about unique. They don’t want to make a spectacle of themselves. They just want to dedicate their lives to each other, and to share that precious occasion with their friends and family in one intimate, special,
romantic
evening.”
    “And you think some jazz quartet is going to be special enough.”
    “It would allow people to dance, at least,” Felicity pointed out.
    “No one can dance to that boring, dusty old music.” Pulling out his phone, Zane quickly thumbed through it and turned it to face Felicity. “This is what gets people to dance. Trust me. I didn’t make as much money as I have by playing Sinatra in my clubs.”
    Felicity leaned over to take the phone, her gaze drawn to the splashy homepage for the most popular and exclusive of Zane’s nightclubs, Mystique. Live music, hot bands, good cocktails, and a throng of scantily clad, model-beautiful people heaved and writhed across the screen. And yes, they certainly did all look as if they were having a wonderful time.
    “But we’re not talking about one of your clubs, Zane.” Impatient, she tossed the phone back to him and crossed her arms over her chest. “This is a wedding, and weddings are supposed to reflect the personalities of the couple tying the knot. Not the personality of an overgrown teenager who’s made a fortune by catering to people’s desire to forget their troubles on the dance floor.”
    Zane’s boots hit the porch floor with a thud as he sat up straight. “In other words, you think I’m making this all about me.”
    “A little bit?” Felicity bit her lip, torn between pushing the argument further and doing whatever it took to erase the flat, hurt look from Zane’s eyes. “Look, I know your intentions are good. I get that you want to give Miles the most amazing wedding reception in the history of the world, because he reminds you of your brother and this is a milestone you’ll never get to share with Michael. I understand.”
    “You understand nothing.” Zane threw himself out of his seat and paced the length of the wraparound porch.
    Studying the V of his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped back in his tight gray sweater, Felicity’s heart ached for him. She understood more than he wanted to admit. She knew this man, deep down, in a way that scared her because it shouldn’t be possible between two people who’d only met a little over three weeks ago.
    But Felicity was used to facing facts. And the fact here was that she was in big trouble with Zane Bishop. Because the temptation to bring a smile back to his face almost outweighed her longstanding need to present perfection on the professional level.
    Almost.
    “Okay.” She blew out a breath that stirred her bangs on her forehead. “Let’s table the entertainment question for now and go back to the décor. We agreed on enclosed, heated structures to protect guests from the ocean breeze. The clear roof and sides will allow guests to enjoy the sunset over the water during cocktail hour, then they can dance under the stars! The company I work with will deal with setup, floor leveling, additional heaters if we want them, and of course, lighting.”
    Resting his hands on the porch railing, Zane