by Tracy Wolff
“It’s a terrible color for you.” One corner of Harmony’s mouth turned up. “And the neckline is a little revealing.”
“Yes, but Lyric’s double Ds will look amazing in this dress.” He held it up to Harmony. “Since you’re the same size, go try it on and see if it fits.”
He could totally see Lyric walking down the aisle wearing this. She’d be so gorgeous that no one would be able to take their eyes off of her. He’d be honored and amazed and humbled to become her husband.
“No, it’s sleeveless,” Harmony stage-whispered as her eyes went to her mother. “Just wait until Lyric gets here so she can try it on.”
He nodded toward the fitting room. “Go put it on really fast.”
“Not a chance.” Harmony was firm on the not trying on.
“I’ll pay you.” He had more money than he could ever spend, and he really wanted to know what Lyric would look like in this dress.
Harmony gave him the drop dead stare that he was rapidly beginning to think of as her trademark. “Cuz that’s not creepy at all.”
“Fine, but we’re not naming our firstborn after you.” She wasn’t the only one who could be firm on something.
“What firstborn?” Harmony’s eyes went huge. “Is Lyric pregnant? Is that why she’s marrying you?”
“Are you saying that the only reason you can think of that she’d want to marry me is because I knocked her up? That’s just hurtful.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.
“You didn’t answer the question.” Harmony’s arms were crossed, and she wasn’t going to leave this one alone. As much as he’d like to string her along a little more, the steam coming out of her ears warned him that wasn’t a good idea.
“No, Lyric isn’t with child. Although, last night she was a demon in the sack, so anything’s possible.” He smiled at Harmony. “I’m hoping for twins—one that’s nice and kind, and then one who’s bitter and hateful like her aunt.”
“Sticks and stones.” Harmony turned her back on him as she inspected an overly sequined wedding dress.
He went over to the settee and carefully laid the simple silk dress on it. He knew this dress was perfect, but he needed to give Lyric some other options. He went back to the wedding dress rack and picked up where he’d left off.
The next gown was too Scarlett O’Hara, and the one after that looked like a bikini made out of cotton balls and lace. Not that he was opposed to seeing Lyric in a bikini, but he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to see her in one. Especially considering his teammates would be at the wedding.
The next dress he guessed was some kind of modern art experiment gone bad—it looked like two bedsheets held together by a clothesline. The one after that looked like a ballerina had been attacked by wolves—lots of gauzy fabric with some pretty important chunks missing.
Who the hell would be caught dead in any of these? Outside of a zombie movie.
“Some of these are really bad.” Harmony pulled out something that was half pantsuit and half dress. “I guess this one’s for the noncommittal bride. She can’t decide if she wants pants or a dress so she gets both. Or neither, depending on how you look at it.”
“This is for the twenty-one-year-old cocktail waitress who’s marrying an eighty-year-old billionaire.” He pulled out a dress made entirely of ropes of seed pearls. “She’s hoping for a short marriage and a long financial payout.”
“How do you figure that?” Harmony studied the dress. “Let me guess, she plans on murder by complicated dress. On their wedding night, she’s going to give him a stroke because he can’t figure out how to get the damn thing off of her.”
“Or she plans on strangling him with one of the strands. It gives a whole new meaning to the term pearl necklace.” Gingerly, he put the dress back.
The next one had promise. It was strapless and fitted. Lace covered the silk slip dress that had a slit up the side. Lyric’s legs would look amazing in this dress. “What do you think about this?” He held it up for Harmony. “I think it suits Lyric.”
Harmony tilted her head to the left and studied the gown. “Not bad, Montgomery. Put it in the try-on pile you created on the settee.”
“Wait … what was that? I must not have heard you correctly.” He put his hand to his ear. “That sounded like a compliment.”
“Don’t get cocky. I’m sure you’ll do something to piss me off real soon.” Harmony pulled out a dress. “What do you think of this one?”
It was plain white silk with a relatively high neckline. The top was fitted, but miles and miles of lace spilled out from the waist.
“Too conservative.” He wanted lots of boobs and leg.
“Not in the back.” Harmony turned it around. The whole back of the dress was cut out except for a thin line of fabric at the neck.
“It’s like a mullet … business in the front and party in the back.” During the wedding he could spend a lot of time mulling over what Lyric wasn’t wearing under that dress. “Could be fun. Add it to the pile.”
“Whoa … that’s a lot of white,” Lyric said from behind Heath.
His whole body tensed as he turned around and gave her the grin most likely to get him out of trouble with the female populace. He just hoped it worked, because he’d missed her after being away from her for only a few hours. No way was he ever going to be able to let her go. “Harmony wants you to wear that weird feathery one up front, but I talked her out of it. You can thank me now.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Thank you.” She leaned in so only he could hear her. “Why are we here?” She studied his pupils like she was looking for some sort of brain injury. “We’re not getting married, remember?”
That hurt more than it should.
“Just keeping up appearances.” He rubbed his thigh. The brace was doing its job, but he wanted her to think that the disappointment he couldn’t hide was just leg pain.
“Why don’t you sit down? Harmony and I can look at dresses.” She led him back to the damn purple settee. She picked up the dresses and looked around for a place to put them.
“Why don’t you try those on? Harm and I picked them out for you.” He sat down as gently as he could, but the chair creaked and listed to the left. He was afraid this settee was on its last legs, helped along there by his two hundred sixty pounds of pure muscle. He only hoped he didn’t end up with one of its ornately carved legs up his ass when the thing finally gave up the ghost.
“Okay.” Lyric made that sound like the worst idea ever. “Harm, can you come help me? I don’t think I can figure out how to put them on.”
Harmony followed Lyric to the door marked dressing room, and Heath tried to ignore how fast his heart was suddenly beating. He couldn’t wait to see Lyric in her wedding dress, couldn’t wait to see how perfect she looked.
But he was old-fashioned too. Should he see her in it before the wedding? Wasn’t that bad luck or something? No way did he want to start off their life together with a bunch of bad luck hanging over their heads.
He shifted and the settee groaned again. That was it. He couldn’t take this uncomfortable chair one more minute. He stood and went looking for somewhere else to sit. Preferably someplace that wasn’t in imminent danger of giving him splinters in unmentionable places.
He scanned the store. It was a chair-less den of uncomfortability. He pushed open a door with “Office” spelled out in pearls. There was a desk and one lone black-pleather rolling desk chair. Several patches of duct tape covered holes. He didn’t care. He rolled it out onto the sales floor. Drastic times called for drastic measures.
Clearly the wedding dress business didn’t pay well. Maybe he’d send over a couple of comfy chairs from the furniture store down the street. Truly, he would be doing the world a favor.
He rolled the chair up next to the settee, sat, and pulled out his smartphone. As long as he had time, he figured he could thin out his pictures and videos.
Harmony walked out of the dressing room. “Are you ready?”
“No, wait.” Heath held up a hand and then pulled a red bandana out of his front pocket. “Livinia and Griffin … oh, um … Grayson … Greg, Lyric’s trying on some wedding dresses.”
Everyone needed to be in on the decision.
“My names is Gregor. You knows everyone else’s names.” Gregor sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Why is mine so difficult for you?”
Because Gregor had insulted Lyric, and that behavior would not go unpunished.
Heath folded the bandana over and over and used it to cover his eyes. He tied it at the back of his head.
“I give up.” It was Harmony. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.” He settled back in the chair and crossed one ankle over the other. “This is the only wedding I’m ever going to have, so I want to do it right.”
“So why did you come?” Harmony never passed up an opportunity to give him a hard time.
“I didn’t want to miss any of the action. Now come on, tie me up.”
“You are so odd,” Harmony said.
“What is goings on with the bandana?” Gregor spoke from Heath’s right side.
“He doesn’t want to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.” Livinia was on his left. “It’s so romantic.”
Heath had been called many things, but romantic had never been one of them. He kinda liked it. Heath the romantic was so much better than Heath the washed-up quarterback.
“I don’t know about this one,” Lyric said as fabric shooshed against fabric.
“Which one did you try on first?” He might not be able to see her before the wedding, but he could imagine her.
“It’s strapless and has lace cutouts.” Lyric sounded like she was right in front of him. “What do y’all think?”
“Well … huh.” Livinia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It barely covers your nipples.” She whispered the last word.
It took all the restraint Heath had in him not to rip his blindfold off.
“Heath picked it out.” Harmony threw him under the bus.
“Maybe the next ones wills be better.” Gregor was always there to offer suggestions and extra s’s.
“Okay.” Lyric shooshed back to the dressing room.
“Are we sure the dress is a no?” Her nipples were covered. If that was good enough for prime-time TV, it should be good enough for his wedding.
“Well, unless you want the whole wedding party to know what color Lyric’s areolas are.” Thank God for Harmony, keeping it real.
Heath lifted his blindfold.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to keep that on? Although using it as a gag instead would be way more helpful.” Harmony was always there to offer a suggestion. He so didn’t love that about her.
“I don’t need the blindfold if Lyric isn’t going to wear that dress for the wedding. Besides. I want to see her nipples.” He rubbed his hands together.
“From what I can tell, you always want to see her nipples.” Harmony was just a little ray of sunshine.
“Harmony.” Livinia sounded scandalized. “You shouldn’t say such things. What’s gotten into you?”
She made it sound like the viewing of nipples was illegal.
Heath didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make him sound like a perv.
“I am havings trouble with the wedding cake.” Gregor sat down heavily on the creaky settee.
So he was going to let Livinia stand?
“Livinia, I’m sure Graynor would love to give up his seat for you.” Manners mattered, and pointing out Gregor’s lack of them mattered more.
“Oh, I don’t mind standing. He’s royalty.” She said it with such reverence that Heath half expected to find that Queen Elizabeth had walked through the front door.
He shot Gregor a look that said he knew Gregor was about as royal as he was, and he’d better get his ass out of that damn chair.
“I insist, ma’am.” Gregor stood and pointed to the settee.
“Uh huh, that’s what I thought,” Heath muttered under his breath. He slid the blindfold back into place. “What’s wrong with the wedding cake?”
“It is the constellations.” Gregor shifted over Heath’s right shoulder. “My baker is havings trouble with the shapes. They are not fittings well together.”
“Fitting together how?” The picture he’d had in his mind of his and Lyric’s wedding cake didn’t involve puzzle pieces.
“If we are stackings them together, they do not flow.” Gregor sounded frustrated.
“Don’t stack them together. Arrange them on the table as they would be in the sky. So if I’m standing in the backyard at night and I look up, that’s how I want the constellations to be arranged.” Heath smiled to himself. No one would notice their placement but Lyric, and she was the only one that mattered.
There was a long moment of silence.
“But that will be ugly.” Gregor whispered the last word just like Livinia had whispered nipples.
“It’s my and Lyric’s wedding, and we will have exactly what we want.” That was final.
It shouldn’t be too hard to replace Gregor. Although, Heath would miss the extra s’s.
“Constellation cakes. They shouldn’t be a problem.” Livinia jumped in to smooth things over. “We can decorate them with rhinestones or something.”
“Rhinestones, that is good.” Gregor was boxed in, and he knew it. “I likes it.”
“Here’s the next one,” Harmony announced.
There was more swishing.
“What do you think?” Lyric didn’t sound sure about it.
“Good Lord, it’s indecent. It actually doesn’t cover your nipples.” This time Livinia didn’t whisper. It must have been the shock.
“Okay, that’s it. A man only has so much restraint.” Heath couldn’t help himself. He loved Lyric’s nipples—and her thighs and her ass and, well, pretty much everything else from head to toe.
He lifted the blindfold, and he had to admit, the dress had some promise. She looked like a slutty bride—the lingerie-looking top cinched in her already small waist and pushed her tits up. He wouldn’t mind peeling it off of her … in private, where he would be the only one admiring those nipples.
“I think this is a no.” Harmony turned Lyric around and pushed her toward the dressing room.
“Have we found anything we like?” Miss Mildred, the shop’s owner, said barely above a whisper. In the thirty minutes that he’d been in the store, he’d come to find out that Miss Mildred had to be eight hundred years old and never uttered a word that wasn’t barely above a whisper.
Heath had to strain to hear her.
“Yes, well, we’re trying several gowns on,” Livinia said in a voice that was also barely above a whisper.
Apparently it was catching.
“Deuce, there’s a problem,” a male voice boomed from the front door.
Everyone turned around.
Jimmy-Joe Taggart of Taggart Furniture next door stood out of breath in the doorway. “I saw you come in here and you’ve got a big problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Heath stood.
Was the building on fire?
He sniffed. It just smelled like old people and fabric.
Taggart lumbered forward. “They just announced the team roster for training camp and your name ain’t on it.”
Everything inside of Heath screamed as his heart broke into a million pieces. Now the whole world would know he was a washed-up quarterback. He pulled in gulps of air that burned his lungs. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t stand the questions that would follow or the pitying looks at the answers he’d have to give them. If God was out there, he would swallow Heath whole and be done with it. Heath hit the front door at a wobbling run.
His knee was on fire, but his heart was numb.
* * *
Chapter 24
* * *
/> Lyric checked the clock on her phone for close to the millionth time. It was 10:18 p.m., a whole minute later than the last time she’d checked it. Big surprise.
It was impossible for time to slow down—she knew the formula that proved it was impossible. But she’d be lying if she tried to pretend the seven hours since Heath had stormed out of the dress shop hadn’t felt like seven days. Because they had. They really, really had.
She’d wanted to go after him, but Heath had been moving fast, and she’d been dressed in a three-thousand-dollar monstrosity that didn’t exactly lend itself to running. Plus, she could only imagine the headlines tomorrow if Heath Montgomery was seen running away from a woman in a bridal gown on the same day his forced retirement became public.
So she’d stopped long enough to change back into her street clothes, and by the time she was dressed, Heath was long gone. She’d borrowed Harmony’s car and gone looking for him, but she hadn’t found any trace of him. Even stops at his favorite bar, restaurant, and ice cream shop had yielded her nothing—no one had seen him. No one had a clue where he was.
Which was why, seven hours later, she was wearing a hole in her bedroom carpet as she paced back and forth, dressed in a pair of Harmony’s old pajamas.
Damn it, where was he? Why wasn’t he answering his cell? And why was he hiding from her, of all people? Heath had always talked to her, even way back in junior high and high school.
The fact that he was shutting her out now hurt, especially since she was walking around with his very big, very beautiful ring on her finger. She knew this whole wedding thing was fake, but she couldn’t help feeling like their relationship had changed. There was something between them that felt real.
Frustrated, worried, and more upset than she wanted to admit to herself, she checked her phone for the millionth and one time. Still no Heath. Damn it. Was this stupid thing even working?
It took every ounce of self-control she had not to reach for a screwdriver and take the damn phone apart just to make sure. She’d reached her closet again, so she turned around and started pacing back to the window.