by Erika Kelly
“I didn’t bail on you.”
“Hey, I’m trying to apologize here.” And yet the words sounded pointed. Barbed.
“Apology accepted.”
“When your dad shut me out, that was the beginning of the end for our friendship. I don’t blame you. Your dad was a good guy. You wouldn’t go against him.”
Like hell he’d let that comment stand. “My dad didn’t give up on you until you stole his watch and showed up wasted for a competition.”
Robert had never admitted to the crime, had been offended at the very idea that he would steal from the man who’d been more of a father to him than his own dad had been. Gray waited, because his response would make all the difference in determining whether Robert was sincere or playing them.
Head lowered, Robert drew in a deep breath. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with a mix of challenge and remorse. “I was an addict.” He shrugged. “I stole from everybody. My parents, my friends, even my girlfriend. Who I loved more than anything.”
Was that a warning? Had he come back for Knox?
It needed to be addressed, here and now. “You want her back? Is that what you’re really doing in town, making her dream come true?”
An ugly curl at one side of Robert’s mouth sent a shiver down his spine. “You love her?”
He wouldn’t stir his friend’s competitive instincts. “It’s new, what we have. But it’s strong.” He tried to read Robert’s expression but couldn’t. “What’s your point?”
“Just asking.”
“Why? Because if you’re going to make a move on her, I want to know. I have a right to know.”
“Why is that, now? Because you never made a move on her when I was going out with her? Tit for tat? Is that something like Knox’s eye for an eye? Because I don’t subscribe to that philosophy myself.”
“Yeah? And what, exactly, are you into?”
The tension rose, crackling between them, and Gray’s body braced for action.
But then—just like that—it broke. And Robert’s features turned slack. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. I’m twenty-five years old, and I just wasted seven years trying to get things going in LA. I want a damn career. That’s it. That’s all I want.”
The anxiety dropped fast and hard, and he almost felt sympathy for the guy. “Glad to see your mom’s giving you a shot. You can’t do better than The Granger Collection.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Your mom staying on top of this?” If she was, Gray would have absolute confidence.
“She’s in Milan, but yeah, I’m working with someone.” He straightened. “So, you don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna fuck this up.”
In her new office, Knox zipped up the muslin for her very first actual bride. It was about a thousand times more emotional and rewarding than working with models.
Callie smoothed the fabric around her hips, twisting around to see her reflection from behind in the full-length mirror. “You’d think as an artist I could imagine what the actual dress will look like.”
“Well, hopefully the sketch makes it come to life for you,” Knox said. “A few layers of drab muslin won’t give you the princess effect.”
“What if I gain ten pounds? I haven’t even set a wedding date yet.”
“Do you plan on gaining weight?” Knox hoped her friend wasn’t pregnant. That wouldn’t work out very well. “It’s easier to take a dress in than let it out.”
Callie cut a stern but playful look to Delilah. “Maybe if someone stopped trying out her amazing recipes on us, I might have a hope in hell.”
“Sorry-not-sorry for cooking something other than sweet potato,” Delilah said.
“Literally never apologize,” Callie said. “Whatever you did to that chicken the other night? Pure witchcraft.”
“Here.” Knox reached for her sketchbook and flipped to Callie’s gown. “Hold this up while you’re looking in the mirror.”
Callie’s gaze shifted from the sketch to the mirror.
“Okay, that’s not exactly the kind of look we’re hoping for when you’re imagining your wedding gown,” Delilah said.
“It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.” But Callie looked unsure. “I love it.”
“Hey, can I show you something?” Knox reached for the sketchbook. Flip, flip, flip. “Take a look at this.”
Delilah got up on the dais with Callie, and they both looked at the sketch.
Knox saw the moment it happened, awe dawning over Callie’s features, and it filled her with more joy, more satisfaction, than seeing any of her dresses on models over the last several years.
Callie looked from the sketch to the mirror and back again.
“Now, that is you,” Delilah said.
Callie’s gaze found Knox in the mirror, and she looked incredibly conflicted.
“If you want it, you can have it.” Knox gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not too late.”
“But we ordered the material,” Callie said.
“And I’ll use it. All of it.”
“You’re not mad?” Callie asked.
“Hey, I designed it with you in mind. This one…” She gestured to the muslin. “Will be perfect for someone else.”
“I guess I just had this idea in my head,” Callie said wistfully.
“But this is you.” Delilah pointed at the sketchbook.
“It really is.” Callie turned around, forcing Delilah to step off the dais. “So, you really don’t mind if we do this one?”
“You want to see the back first?” Knox motioned for her to turn the page.
“Oh, my God.” Callie’s eyes bugged out. “That’s crazy sexy.” She snapped the book shut and held it to her chest. “I’m so in love with this dress.”
“Fin’s gonna cry like a little bitch when he sees you walking toward him,” Delilah said.
“Aw, you’re so romantic,” Callie said.
“So, that’s the one?” Knox asked.
“For sure.”
“Speaking of which,” Delilah said. “While I’m here, do you think I could look through your sketchbook? The one you said had some ideas I might like?”
“Unfortunately, no. I lost it in the move.”
“You what?” Delilah looked horrified.
“Don’t worry. Your dress wasn’t in that one—”
“You must be devastated,” Delilah said.
Oh. The woman had been worried about Knox. Not her own wedding gown. “I am, actually.”
“Maybe it’s in one of the boxes.” Callie stepped off the dais.
“I don’t think so. We’ve opened all of them.” Knox glanced through the office windows overlooking her new space. The sewers were already back at work. Phone cradled on his shoulder, Zach paced, one hand gesticulating. “And I’ve turned the bunkhouse upside down.”
“Gray’s truck?” Callie said. “A different purse?”
“I’ve searched everywhere. It’s just gone. Things always get lost in a move, but don’t worry about your dress. I always have new ideas.”
“I’m not worried at all,” Delilah said. “Besides, you have more than enough on your plate. How about you get through fashion week, and then we’ll talk about finishing my dress?”
Knox gave her a grateful smile.
“Okay,” Callie said. “I have to pick up some Coco’s chocolates I ordered for an event at the museum tonight. Want to come into town with me, and we can get a coffee?”
Knox unzipped the muslin. What the new dress lacked in volume, she could make up with some subtle but dynamic bling. Like embedding tiny crystals—
“Knox?” Callie said.
She peered at the future bride. “Yeah?” Had she missed something?
“Coffee?”
She spit the pins out again. “Oh, me? I thought you were talking to Delilah.”
“I’m talking to both of you. Coffee at Calamity Joe’s?”
She bit down on her go-to response. I have to get back to
work. Because she’d been working since five in the morning and would continue to work long after the sewers went home, so taking a half hour to hang out with her…friends was absolutely fine. Besides, she’d already been barked at in the fanciest restaurant in town. There was literally nothing those idiots could do to hurt her now. “I’d love it.”
“I must be in the wrong studio,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
They all turned to see Robert breezing in with a to-go tray of two hot beverages.
“Hey, Robert,” Callie said. “Good to see you.”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Then, he gave Delilah the full wattage of his brilliant smile. “Well, hello, there. I’m Robert Granger.”
“Delilah Lua. Nice to meet you.”
He turned back to the muslin. “So, is this the new Amish line?”
“Ha ha,” Knox said. “This is the mock-up. It’s how we make sure the dress fits perfectly before we cut expensive and rare fabrics.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He held the tray out to her. “Got you tea.”
“Oh, thank you.” She reached for it and cupped it in both hands. “What brings you out here?”
“Bringing you tea isn’t reason enough?” Robert said. “No? Okay, fine. I’ve got news.”
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Callie said.
“Don’t leave on my account.”
Callie headed for the door. “I have to take this off, and I’m one hundred percent sure I don’t want to listen to your news in my underpants. Besides, I left my clothes in the bathroom.” She reached for the door, then called back to Knox. “Meet us at Joe’s, if you can.”
“Will do.” Once the women left, she turned to Robert. “So, what’s the news?”
He took a leisurely sip of his coffee, obviously toying with her. “If you only needed one person to show up to make the show worthwhile, who would it be?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Alayna Chaumier.”
“Now, I’m new at this, but would she happen to be the senior editor at Bridal Couture magazine?”
“Oh, my God, don’t play around. Is she coming? Did you get her?”
That smile—God, it threw her back to her childhood. Robert had always been ridiculously handsome. He had a sexy mouth and mischievous eyes, thick, dark hair and a trim frame. He dressed well, smelled expensive, and was utterly charming. Her heart swelled to see him so healthy. So vibrant.
This was the man she’d wanted him to be in high school.
This was the man she’d wanted to take her to prom, when she’d worn a sensational dress and wanted to go out on a high note. “How did you get her?”
“Seriously, you completely underestimate yourself. All I had to do was tell her your show’s back on. That’s it. She wants to come. So much that she’s already booked a private appointment with you.”
She turned away from him, one hand over her heart to keep it from bursting, and blinked back tears. Her skin felt hot, itchy, and she wanted Gray.
“Hey. You okay? I know I didn’t get your approval, but after our conversation the other morning, it seemed like we were all on the same page. You liked everything I’d set up so far. I thought…if I got the right people to come, you’d be happy.”
Lost in a cloud of emotion, she couldn’t get the words out. She was showing her gowns in Bridal Fashion Week. It’s going to happen. Alayna Chaumier would see them.
And Knox wasn’t scared—not a bit—about what kind of review she’d get. Because she knew.
“Babe.” His hand landed on her shoulder, and he turned her to face him. “Tell me those are tears of happiness. Tell me that I made you happy.”
“So happy.” Her voice came out a whisper. “This means everything to me.”
“I know.”
“Did you get my text?” Knox leaned into the passenger side window.
“Been driving. What’s up?” Fact: right after his late afternoon conditioning, Gray had jumped in his truck to go pick her up. Didn’t check his phone, grab a water, nothing. Just raced over here to see her.
Highlight of my day.
She opened the door and climbed in. First thing she did was close the window. “It’s freezing.” She dumped her tote on the floor and lunged for him. With her cold hands on his cheeks, she planted a kiss on his mouth. Nothing sexual, but he didn’t care. He just wanted her hands on him.
Holding him close, she said, “Hi,” with her dazzling smile.
Fuck, she made him happy. “Hi, beautiful. Good day?”
Before letting him go, she scraped her fingernails through his scruff. When her thumb caressed his lower lip, he about died. And then she sat back in her seat and buckled herself in. “The best. Robert stopped by.”
Robert had made her this happy?
“I can’t even believe it, but he got the biggest editor and blogger in the bridal business to come to my show. I mean, Luc’s PR firm had already booked her for the original one, and she’d made a big deal about it on her page, but the fact that she rearranged her schedule for me is huge.”
“That’s great.” Dammit. The pieces just didn’t fit. The Robert he found in the bar yesterday didn’t align with the Robert who was hitting all his marks for this show.
He sure as hell wished Mrs. Granger would get back to him. He’d sent a text and an email. No response.
“I mean, even if no one else comes, I’m still going to have the single biggest influencer there.” She tipped her head back. “Oh, my God, Gray, it’s going to happen. I’m going to be in Bridal Fashion Week.”
He flashed her a grin before turning onto the highway. “I’m happy for you.”
“And it’s Robert. Of all people. Like, out of the blue he shows up and within a week, I’ve got my show back.”
He sure as hell hoped she did. If Robert was fucking with her…well, they wouldn’t let him. They’d stay on top of everything.
“Is everything okay?” She shifted in her seat to face him, hitching up a knee.
Pulled out of his thoughts, he pasted on a smile. “Of course. I’m happy for you.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve known you practically your whole life. I know your smiles.”
“My smiles?”
“Yes, and that one says you’re withholding information.”
“What?”
“You’ve got the lazy, hey-man-how’s-it-going one.” She showed him with half-lidded eyes and a stoner grin. “And the you’re-seriously-the-most-delightful-person-I’ve-ever-met one.” She gave him a lovelorn look. “That one’s reserved for me.”
“I’ve never smiled like that in my life.”
“And you’ve got the one you just gave me, so what aren’t you telling me?”
Bringing up the bar would stir up a hornet’s nest of trouble. She’d confront Robert, who’d, in turn, come after Gray, accusing him of throwing shade on him just to look better in Knox’s eyes. Stupidly competitive, but that was just the way it had always been between them. With two weeks until the show, she didn’t need their drama.
He did, though, need to address his concerns. “So far, Robert’s delivered on all of his promises. We’ve checked into the gallery, the florist…we’ve seen the agency contracts. Everything’s above-board. How can we be sure he’s got this blogger?”
She dug into her tote and pulled out her phone. “She’d definitely post it on her blog. Say something about the fact that Knox Holliday’s back, that my show’s actually going to happen.” It only took her a minute to find what she was looking for. “No. Not yet. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
“He just heard back from her today.”
“True. And her last post is from yesterday.” She dropped the phone into the tote. “Okay, so I can be happy but not too happy.”
“Cautiously optimistic.”
“But is that your only hesitation? Like, if we find out the gallery’s real and the blogger’s actually coming, are you going to bounce around in your seat and pump your fi
st?”
“You won’t see it, but it’ll be happening inside.” He reached for her hand and kissed her palm. “He’d have to be a sociopath to lie about things we can easily verify.”
“True. Okay, so…I’m going to just sit here and be a little bit excited.”
He’d like to not be driving while she did that, so he could watch. “You want to get dinner?”
“I’m too excited to eat.” She glanced at his clothing. “Besides, don’t you want to shower and change first?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Actually, you know what I want, what I really, really want? I want to drive. No destination. Just…drive. You and me, in the truck.”
“Highway or four-wheelin’?”
“You did not just ask me that question.” Her smile lit up the cab, and he wanted to bathe in it, read by it, live inside its heat.
Just ahead was a turn-out that headed across the meadow and right to the base of the mountain. He took it. She reached for the radio, flicked it on, and played around until she found a song she liked.
Rolling down her window, she stuck her arm outside and danced along with the country tune. It threw him back to high school, when they’d drive aimlessly, blasting tunes. When he’d loved her, wanted her, but couldn’t have her.
Only this time he could have her. And, fuck, if that didn’t make his blood hot.
The truck lurched, then bounced along the rutted road. At the base of the mountain, he shot her a questioning look, and she nodded, a gleam in her eyes. So, he floored it, clots of dirt pinging against the truck, the growl of the engine overpowering the radio.
She turned up the volume, singing along with the country tune. The narrow road didn’t afford him a chance to watch her. He wanted to see her skirt ride up, exposing more of her tights-covered thighs, her hair flying in the chilly breeze. Wanted to get his hands and mouth on her.
At the first turn-out, he pulled off, drove right up to the edge and killed the lights. Jackson Hole spread out before them, clusters of light indicating the small towns spread out within the basin.
Just as the song ended, another one came on. “Oh, I love this one. Come on.” She threw open the door and started dancing. He cut the engine but kept the radio on and, when she drifted out of sight, he got out of the truck. Knox was rocking out, her hips swaying, arms waving, completely letting loose. Every now and then she’d double over, letting the tips of her hair brush the ground, then fling back up, a cascade of shimmering beauty. Her ass shook, and he wanted to clutch it, but if he did that, she’d stop dancing and singing, and that wouldn’t do.