“I don’t think you understand how hen parties are supposed to work, love” Flynn observed. “The gents aren’t supposed to be around for it.”
“Psh.” Kennedy waved that off and knocked back a shot of whiskey. “We’re short on time, and there aren’t that many places to have a bachelor or bachelorette party. It just made sense to do it together. Besides, I feel bad enough that I’m getting married and leaving town practically right after you got here to visit me. I wanted to spend what time I could with you.”
“Fair enough.” Flynn tossed back his own whiskey—not bad for not being Irish—and reached for her hand. “I know the bride is meant to be in charge, but if this is all the time I have with you, we’re going to dance.”
Grinning, she slapped her hand in his. “Yes, we are! Denver!” She called to
