“HAVE YOU ORDERED your dress yet?”
I froze as my sister’s question floated through the line. Crap. I hadn’t ordered it yet but not because I’d forgotten. Okay. That was a lie. I’d totally forgotten, but by no means had it been intentional. Work had had me super busy as of late, and with the upcoming publishing convention Owen was attending in the next few weeks, I needed to make sure everything was in order as far as his itinerary was concerned. Not to mention juggling writing time and dedicating a day or two every week to Drew so he didn’t feel abandoned. I felt like a tug-o-war rope whose threads were being pulled in one thousand different directions.
“You haven’t ordered it yet, have you?”
I bit down on my lip and yanked open my desk drawer, digging through my purse in search of my wallet. “Well, I—”
“Elle! Come on. Are you serious? The wedding is in less than two months. Oh. My. God. You’re not going to have it in time, are you? You’re… What are we going to do? What are we—” Kimmi’s breathing increased, sounding as though she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She couldn’t even finish formulating her sentence.
Great. I was going to be responsible for killing the bride or, at the very least, sending her into a panic-stricken anxiety attack.
“Kimmi, relax. I’m ordering it right now, okay? I promise. It will be fine.” I quickly typed in the web address for the bridal website, and as I searched for the design and color she had chosen—a short knee-length A-line in dark purple chiffon—my eyes widened.
Dread crept down my spine.
Or not.
“Shit.” I stared at the words “Out of Stock.” The same tightness I imagined was currently gripping my sister’s chest constricted my own.
“What? What is it?”
“Kimmi, I’ll call you back. Everything will be fine, okay? Don’t worry.”
“Elle! Don’t you dare hang up on—”
I disconnected the call before she detected the panic in my tone. My pulse throbbed beneath my skin. Here I was telling her not to worry while I was on the verge of losing it myself.
Think, Elle. Think. Damn it.
Couldn’t I just do something right for once in my life?
Grabbing my purse, I shot out of my chair. I’d have to make a trip to the local store and see if they had one in stock—hope to hell they had one in stock—otherwise my sister would never let me live this down. I'd be forever guilty of ruining her wedding, and that was not something I wanted hanging over my head for the rest of my life. It might not have seemed like a huge deal, but to a bride who had spent her entire life dreaming of her big day and the perfect dresses her bridesmaids would wear, it was a horrific nightmare.
Leaving the pile of manuscripts that Millie delivered that morning on my desk, I darted across the floor of my office. I still had loads of work to do, and I wasn't sure how Owen felt about me leaving in the middle of the day, but it was close to my lunch hour, and I wouldn't be long. There was a good chance I'd even make it back on time, but if the store did have one in stock, I didn't want to miss the opportunity of getting my hands on it. I could always stay later to finish everything if needed.
Eyes cast downward, I hustled toward the door, not fully paying attention to where I was going, as I attempted to stuff my phone and wallet back into my purse.
A warm collision of bodies knocked me off balance, and I nearly tripped over my own heels at the same time a set of strong fingers curled around my upper arms, breaking my fall.
“Woah. Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Dropping my head back between my shoulders, I glanced up at the startling green eyes. “I…I, um…”
My thoughts vanished as I tilted my chin forward, my gaze lowering and roaming over the wall of solid muscle I'd crashed into. Owen’s dark gray suit jacket hugged his frame, and the white dress shirt hidden beneath was opened at the collar, exposing a sliver of smooth skin. I looked away, the thought of wanting to see more of him, or even all of him, naked causing my cheeks to redden.
Rough yet gentle, his hands remained on my arms, and the scent of his cologne, a cool spice with a hint of citrus, lingered in the small space between us, making my head dizzy with desire. Our proximity to one another took me back to that night four weeks ago, the same night he’d left me standing in the middle of the sidewalk, alone. We hadn’t spoken much since then, only curt conversations relating to work and business, and as many times as I’d wanted to break the repetitive cycle, I found myself unsure which road to take.
Despite what Millie had said, Owen continued to remain distant and, for the most part, immersed in his work. She had wanted me to be his friend, but the truth was I didn’t know how to approach him as anything other than his employee. And then, of course, there was their encounter I’d witnessed in the library. Knowing what he’d said and what he’d felt didn’t make things any easier.
I cleared my throat and gathered my wits. “I’m sorry. I know I have a lot of work to do, but I really have this important errand I need to run. I was hoping to go now; otherwise, I’ll be solely responsible for ruining my sister’s life forever, and I’d really rather not.”
Owen’s head reared back. “That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“When it comes to Kimmi? No. Nothing is too extreme.”
He chuckled, and the sound caused a feeling of warmth to skate down my chest.
“I'm almost afraid to ask what kind of errand you're running.”
I breathed deeply, embarrassed to admit my failings. “She’s getting married in a couple of months, and I completely forgot to order my gown for her wedding. I’m her maid of honor, and of course, now it’s showing out of stock online. I need to make a trip to Wilhan’s Bridal and pray like hell they have one there.”
“Oh.” His brows knitted and his lips pursed with the word, as if he understood the severity of my predicament.
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Do you need a ride?”
My gaze snapped to his, and I stared at him, my mouth agape at his unexpected offer. “You’d do that? You’d give me a ride?”
Slipping his hands into his pants pockets, he gave me a small nod and lifted his shoulders. “Yeah. I mean, I’d hate to see you ruin your sister’s wedding. She seems like the innocent party in all of this.” I rolled my eyes, and he gave me a playful smirk that slowly melted my insides before cocking his head toward the door. “Come on. There is something I wanted to talk to you about. We can discuss it on the way.”
“Okay.”
With an air of clunky awkwardness between us, we made our way to the parking garage, and I followed behind him as he navigated the rows of cars, stopping when we reached a sleek green Mercedes AMG-GT R.
I laughed, unable to help myself. “Of course. Why am I not surprised?”
“Excuse me?” He looked at me, baffled by my outburst.
“Nothing.”
How does that saying go? Boys and their toys?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I waited as he touched the handle on the door, activating the keyless entry, and then moved to open the passenger side. I slid in beside him, nervousness settling in my stomach as my body sank into the smooth leather seats, their coolness a welcoming sensation against my bare thighs.
Taking a glance in my direction, Owen sensed my unease. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, my throat unusually dry. “I’m fine. Just afraid to, you know”—I gestured around the expensive interior at the hundreds of controls that were probably more than anyone ever needed in a vehicle—“touch anything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a car.” He pressed the small round button that I quickly learned replaced the ignition key and the engine roared to life.
I swallowed hard, grabbing my seatbelt and fumbling with the strap as I continued to ramble, anxiousness swirling through me. “Yeah. A very, very expensive car that I—”
“Relax.” Owen’s hand covered mine, warm and gentle, and a tingle that felt much like a shock of electricity raced up my arm. My words faded, and I sat motionless as he took control of the buckle, his eyes holding mine and his knuckles lightly brushing against my upper thigh as he clicked it into place. “Would you rather take the subway or a cab?”
I shook my head, my voice a pitiful whisper. “No.”
“Okay then.” He nodded, pressing back in his seat and lowering the windows.
My heart hammered as he opened the sunroof and took hold of the shifter, reversing out of the parking space.
“Do you…do you always drive around the city?”
His eyes remained on the road. “Not always, no.”
“Oh.”
“Are you always so nervous?”
“I’m not. I’m—” I sighed, stopping the lie before it slipped between my lips. I was nervous, but the maddening part was I didn’t understand why. Did it have to do with the fact I was sitting in an expensive car that I could only imagine owning in my wildest dreams? Or was it Owen’s closeness, the way he made my heart beat faster, and the sense of excitement that came with being in his presence? I glanced over at him, watching as the breeze ruffled the strands of his light brown hair, and knew it was the latter. “So, um, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?
“The convention.”
“Oh, yeah. I meant to send you an email. No need to worry. Everything is in order. Millie has your room booked, and I’ve already spoken with—”
“I want you to come with me.”
I paused, dragging my attention away from the open window and over to him. “What?”
He tapped his finger along the top of the steering wheel, his eyes catching mine in a quick sideways glance. “As you know, Caldwell Publishing has a smaller office located in L.A. primarily made up of our core marketing team. They’ll be attending the convention, and I want you to meet them, but I also want you to pitch them the Bower manuscript.”
My purse tumbled from my lap, its contents spilling across his expensive floor mats at my knee-jerk reaction. “Wait. You want me to do what?”
“I want you to pitch the Bower manuscript. You believe in it so much I want you to make them believe in it, too.”
Oh no. There was no way. Of course, I believed in it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stand in front of a room full of marketing execs and explain why I thought it was worth investing in, especially after Owen had made it clear he wasn’t interested. Anxiety assaulted my nerves and doubt reared its ugly head. What had made him change his mind? Did he have so much faith in me to convince them otherwise, or was he setting me up for failure?
“But I thought you said it was too much of a risk.”
Coming to a rolling stop at a red light, he looked over at me, and the expression on his face was one I couldn’t put into words. It was sincere. It made my heart speed up and slow down all at once, and I had no idea how that was even physically possible. But possible could have been Owen’s middle name, because when I was with him, he made the impossible seem a little less out of reach.
We stared at each other for a few beats, a magnetic attraction bouncing between us before he spoke, his words like food to my hungry soul.
“The only things we regret in this life are the risks we didn’t take, right?”
Entirely breathless and in complete awe of him, I nodded. “Right.”
The street light turned green seconds later, and without warning, Owen hit the gas. The forward acceleration of the car forced me back into my seat, effectively breaking our perfect moment, and a carefree laugh floated from my mouth. As my hair blew in the wind, the sun’s rays bathing my face in their warmth, I couldn’t recall the last time I felt so optimistic.
For once, I felt like I was making progress toward chasing my dreams, and I owed all the credit to him.
As we pulled into the parking lot of Wilhan’s Bridal, I quickly gathered the items that had fallen out of my purse and pushed open the door. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Wish me luck. I’m lousy at a lot of things, but I really don’t want to have to admit to being a lousy maid of honor.”
He gave me an encouraging smile. “Good luck, Elle.”
Stepping out of the car, not missing the way it turned heads and widened eyes, I hurried into the store, my heart beating in anticipation as I headed straight for the racks of purple bridesmaid gowns. I quickly sifted through the different styles—lace, tulle, silk, and chiffon caressing my fingers—as I searched for the exact dress I'd been desperate to find. The familiar beaded bodice with the knee-length skirt finally came into view, and I scrambled to locate the tag, praying and hoping it was my size. If it required a size down in alterations, so be it. It was the dress Kimmi had chosen, and that was all that mattered.
Discovering it was in fact my size, I squealed in excitement and dashed to the front of the store, laying the dress down on the counter beside the register and searching through my purse for my wallet.
A pretty blonde stood behind the bridal concierge desk and, with a trained smile in place, greeted me. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I need to purchase this dress, please.”
“Okay. I can assist you.” She walked over to the computer, her long manicured fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard as she typed in the style number. A frown crinkled her forehead and slanted her lips. “I'm sorry, but this style is showing on backorder until mid-August.”
Mid-August. That was a month after the wedding. My heart pounded in my chest. “I know. Which is exactly why I am needing to buy this dress.” I smiled tightly, hoping she understood.
“This dress?”
“Yes. This dress.”
“I do apologize, but I'm afraid I can't sell you this dress. This is our rack model and is used for ordering purposes only.”
My stomach sank. Companies sold their displays all the time, did they not? “I totally get that, but you don't understand. My sister’s wedding is in less than two months, and this dress, this is the dress she’s chosen for me to wear. I need this dress. You would be doing me a huge favor.” I looked at her with pleading eyes.
“We encourage all of our brides to inform their bridal party to order at least six months in advance. I realize many wait until the last minute in an effort to lose weight...” Her eyes ran from the top of my head to my toes, and a flush of hot heat swept down my neck and over my chest at her insinuation. “But it's highly recommended that they don't. We can always take a dress in a few sizes if needed.”
She smiled again, and I wanted to crawl over the counter and introduce her pearly white teeth to each of my knuckles. I inhaled deeply, calming myself before speaking through a clenched jaw and an equally fake expression. “Look”—my gaze flicked to her name badge—“Brooklyn. I appreciate the explanation. Unfortunately, there were other circumstances which prevented me from ordering earlier. Now, if you're not willing or able to help me, then please go retrieve your manager or someone who is.”
As if offended by my response, she lifted her chin. The smile vanished from her snooty face and her eyes, framed by her perfectly sculpted brows, narrowed. “I am the manager, and I'm sorry, but there is nothing we can do for you.” Scooping the dress from the counter, she held up the hanger and shook out the material, allowing the chiffon skirt to fall to its full length.
My face burned red, and I exhaled in disbelief, anger boiling in my veins.
Taken aback at the way she’d spoken to me, I tightened my fingers around the strap of my purse, attempting to exercise even a fraction of control, and then stomped toward the front entrance, turning only as I reached the door. Our interaction had garnered everyone’s attention in the store, and well, damn it, if they wanted a show, I was going to give them one. “Don't buy from here! Their quality is shit!”
Letting the door swing shut behind me, I marched across the parking lot, my nerves pulled tight as a bow as I yanked open the passenger side door of Owen’s car and threw myself down on the seat.
He looked over at me. A wariness marred his expression, and his muscles were visibly tense as if I was a ticking bomb seconds away from exploding. The ball in his throat moved on a slow swallow, and his voice was as hesitant as his movements. “I take it they didn’t have the dress?”
I shoved my purse onto the floor between my feet and reached for my seatbelt, yanking it across my chest and fighting with the twisted strap as I attempted to get the buckle fastened. “Oh no. They had the dress all right.”
“So what happened?”
“Brooklyn refused to sell it to me after implying I waited too long to purchase it in order to lose weight. Can you believe that? The stupid bi—” I bit down on my tongue, stopping a very unladylike word from falling out of my mouth. A caustic laugh escaped in its place, and I threw my hands in the air in helpless anger. “God. Who does that?”
“She did what?”
Tears born from nothing other than pure frustration burned the back of my eyes, and my knee bounced as my blood pulsed with red hot irritation. “You know, I totally understand if she couldn’t sell me the dress, but she didn’t have to insult—”
“Wait here.”
Before I could question or protest his command, Owen stepped out of the car and made his way toward the entrance of Wilhan’s Bridal.
What was he doing?
I sat still, watching with curious eyes from a distance as he walked up to the counter and spoke to the woman who had been rude and mostly unprofessional. Hands resting in the pockets of his suit pants and his head tilted to the side, he stood tall and with a cloud of self-assurance surrounding him. Mesmerized. It was the only way to describe the way I felt. I was enraptured by the way every one of his movements exuded pure confidence, and in a span of a few seconds, that strange desire I experienced whenever he was near returned, swirling low in my stomach and simmering my blood with a new kind of heat.
Just admit it, Elle. You want him.
Several minutes of conversation ensued between the pair before he disappeared, following her into what looked like an office, and the longer I sat there, the madder I became. What were they doing? And where did they go? Why did they have to walk off where they couldn’t be seen? A flame of jealousy burned in my chest. Jealous. No, that wasn’t right. Elle Callihan didn’t get jealous, and certainly not over her boss.
Digging through my purse, I searched angrily for my Chapstick.
The nerve of that woman.
Who the hell did she think she was speaking to customers that way? She needed a lesson in customer service and possibly a rearrangement of her—
A rush of cool air blew into the car as Owen sat behind the steering wheel, yanking me from my thoughts, his arm stretched out and the hanger of a white garment bag dangling from the tips of his fingers.
“Here.”
Confused, I glanced at the bag hanging in the space between us and then at his handsome face. His eyes were that beautiful shade of green: deep, dark, and intense. Completely breathtaking. “What…what is this?”
“Open it. Make sure that’s the one.”
“The one?” I freed the bag from his hands and unzipped it, my breath coming on a sharp gasp as my gaze roamed over the purple chiffon that had hugged my curves in the most flattering way. “Owen...” I stared at it, my fingers tightly clutching the soft material as if to prevent it from slipping and vanishing from my grasp. My head kicked up, and I turned in my seat to face him. “What did you do? How did you—”
“You needed the dress, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did. I do. But…”
“Then don’t worry about how I got it. It’s yours.”
It’s mine.
Tears pricked my eyes for an entirely different reason, and without any forethought to my action or its possible consequence, I leaned over the center console, ignoring the way it pressed into my ribs, and crushed my lips to Owen’s cheek. The fine layer of stubble dusting his jaw brushed against the sensitive flesh of my mouth, and a raw and heady sensation rocketed through every inch of my being. It traveled all the way to the tips of my toes, curling them in my already too-tight shoes, and my body hummed with a desperate need for more. More of him. More of the mind-numbing tingle our connection created.
My lips lingered on his skin, and all it would take would be a slight turn of his head for our mouths to meet.
Oh, how I want that—want to discover the taste of his tongue and the power of his kiss. I want to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of extraordinary.
Realizing my mind was drifting into dangerous territory, I pried myself away from him, a sudden coldness settling in my bones at the loss of his contact. I flicked my eyes up to his, oh so hesitantly, wondering what reaction I might find.
He looked at me for all but two seconds—those dark green pools of his giving nothing away before switching ahead and focusing his attention out the windshield—and feeling as if I’d just overstepped a line I had no business crossing, I settled into my seat. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I pulled in a shaky breath, rezipping the dress bag and resting it on my lap. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
With a smirk on his face, he started the car and reversed out of the parking spot. “I think I might.”