He huffed out a growl of frustration then placed a soft, wet kiss just under my chin. “I guess I’ll just have to be patient and wait for our appointment then.”

“I guess we both will,” I whispered back, my body heating at the thought of finally slaking the intense need that had grown between us. I only hoped that one night would be enough. Not that it really mattered. He was still my son’s best friend. Nothing could come of this thing between us. By this time tomorrow, Tommy would be back in Chicago.

“We should get downstairs,” I said, pushing him away.

Tommy searched my face, a crinkle between his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” I squeaked a little too excitedly. “I just don’t want to hold up the ceremony.”

He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then checked his watch. “You’re right. I should get you to your seat.”

Quickly, but taking care not to rush me too much, Tommy helped me navigate my way through the house toward my seat on the groom’s side.

I could see the back of Jolene’s head as we made our way down the aisle. I clenched my teeth and bit back the nasty remark that nearly passed my lips. But I must have made some sort of sound because Tommy covered the hand I had in the crook of his arm with his own.

“Twenty minutes. You only have to sit next to her for twenty minutes, and then I’ll rescue you,” he whispered as we neared my seat.

I didn’t know if he meant it as a joke, but I was suddenly so immensely grateful that he’d stepped in to take care of me during this ceremony. “Thank you, Tommy.”

He gave me one of his wicked lopsided grins. “My pleasure. I’m at your service, remember?” he said, then dropped a hand to my waist and held the chair steady as I sat down.

Jolene glanced my way as I made myself comfortable. “Good evening, Darcy,” she said haltingly.

“Jojo,” I returned curtly.

Jolene was wearing a slip of a dress, seemingly made of the leftovers from a real garment meant to cover someone’s body. She crossed her bare legs and angled them in a way that elongated them. “You look lovely, Darcy. Mother of the bride dresses always look so matronly to me, but not on you,” she said.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled at her weak attempt to bait me into a sniping match. “Thanks,” I said, accepting her backhanded compliment. I knew I didn’t look matronly. The way Tommy was still staring at me validated that in ways that no one else could.

“Thomas certainly is taking that concierge duty seriously, isn’t he?” Jolene said. “He has always been overly fond of you.”