by Cari Quinn
He moved back and cocked his head. “Yeah, well, I hate those stupid green zit masks you put on when we watch TV.”
“They’re for face rejuvenation,” she said, indignant. “Not for zits. My skin is dewy. You can see it for your damn self.”
“And another thing. I absolutely can’t stand that you insist on wearing my old T-shirts to bed.”
She frowned, her eyebrows drawing tight. “Well, excuse me.”
“You know why?” He swept his finger over her puckered mouth. “Because I want your sexy, curvy body naked against me every goddamn minute, and I get mad at the cotton when I can’t touch you as soon as I want.”
“Oh. Hmm. That’s too bad.”
“It is. This is an issue we’ll have to work on.”
“Yeah, there’s another one.” She shifted her focus to the windows on the opposite side of the bus, squinting a little in the growing sunlight. “I won’t keep any secrets from you again. No matter what.” She took a steadying breath and returned her focus to him. “I’ll probably slip. I can’t promise I’ll never fail you, or myself,” she said, echoing his earlier statement. “But I can promise I’m going to try like hell to be a man—err, woman—who is worthy of you,” she said, letting her hair fall forward to hide part of her face.
His brave, strong-as-hell, sexually confident woman was blushing. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.
Saying nothing, he scooped her up into his lap, making her squeal and laugh. And curl into him as if she was exactly where she belonged.
Finally.
He picked up the ring box and popped the top, tilting it toward her. The pink light of dawn hit the ruby and refracted the light, making it sparkle.
She let out a gasp. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. Exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself. How did you know?”
“Hello, best fucking friend. Give me some credit here.” He caught a handful of her hair and tugged her head back, teasing a gasp out of her for an all new reason. “Will you marry me?” he asked hoarsely, not entirely sure his eyes weren’t wet all over again.
But look at that, so were hers.
Her smile glimmered even brighter than the ruby he slipped on her finger. Perfect fit—with a little room for an extra quesadilla after a late-night Taco Bell run. Or maybe two.
“Yes.” She threw her arms around his neck and let out an awestruck laugh. “God, yes.”
Grateful beyond belief, he slung his arms around her waist and covered her face with kisses while she responded in kind. She giggled and shifted restlessly in his lap, circling her tight little ass over his stiffening cock.
Time to celebrate. To fucking live.
Drawing back, he gripped her hair again, a little rougher this time. “Let’s go baptize that shower so I can practice calling you Mrs. Waters while I fuck you.”
“My inner feminist says I should squawk at the lack of discussion about this future name change, but…” She licked her lips and popped to her feet. “Let’s go get wet.”
Epilogue
Drums and a wild bout of laughter hammered into her lazy spin on the endless river. The water was a lovely, refreshing temperature. Not too cold, not too warm. In her perfect world, she had a large, cold glass of jasmine tea in one hand and Ryan’s hand bumping against hers as they both floated along on their oversized inner tubes.
Easy and soft and sweet.
No road, no stage, no squabbling band members.
With every rap above her head, the river got farther and farther away.
“Go away.” Denver rolled over and tried to get back into her dream.
Lauren tapped her drum sticks on her bedroom door. “Get up, sleepyhead.”
Warning Sign was currently off tour and the four of them—Lauren, West, Ryan, and herself—were living in the small two-bedroom apartment the guys had in Los Angeles.
She may have contemplated Lauren and West’s deaths approximately twenty-three times since they’d all started shacking up. Especially since Mal had given Lauren a practice pad and drumsticks after she’d badgered him to learn.
Of course, he didn’t have to hear her tap on everything with the damn sticks.
Denver sighed. If she couldn’t have her lazy river, then she freaking preferred the bus.
Lauren pushed open her door and Denver flipped her sheet over her head. She’d long since lost any semblance of privacy living on the bus with these animals. She was pretty sure the apartment was even worse.
Lauren bounced on the side of her bed. “Dressed under there?”
“And if I said I wasn’t? Does that mean you’d leave me alone?”
“Nope. I would turn around though.”
Denver pushed her sheet off her face. One, because it was too damn hot with the sun streaming in, and two, Lauren wouldn’t relent until Denver was sitting up and paying attention. With her damn eyes open. “What’s up?”
“Did you forget what today is?”
“Hump day? Damn, where did Ry go?”
Lauren twirled her drumstick through her fingers twice before it fell and rolled under the bed. She dropped to the floor and reached under for her stick. “Dammit. How does he make it look so easy?”
Denver yawned. “Mal’s been playing with his stick since birth.”
Lauren peeked over the top of the mattress, her smile wide. “That’s terrible, and yet probably true.” She came up with a cherry-red rope with a Velcro strap on one end. “Whoa. Not my stick.”
Denver snatched away their latest acquisition and stuffed it into the drawer in her bedside table.
“What else is down here?”
“Lo!”
“Okay, okay.” Lauren waggled her stick before bouncing on Denver’s bed one more time. “It’s dress day!”
“Oh, no. No way.” Denver rolled over and burritoed herself into her sheets and pulled her pillow over her head. There was no way she was going to a shop full of girlie things with horrifying words like silk, tulle, and satin. No, thank you.
Lauren pulled the pillow off her head. “Come on. It’s not going to be that bad.”
“I’m not going to walk down the aisle looking like abominable snowbeast!”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding last weekend.”
Thank God she didn’t have a huge family to worry about. In fact, she was contemplating eloping. She was almost positive she could get Ryan onboard with that. He was prepared to hustle her down the aisle with a shotgun.
It wasn’t like she didn’t want to get married. She wiggled her fingers in the diffused sunshine of her room. The ruby and diamond ring sparkled no matter the angle.
No, that part wasn’t the problem at all. She just didn’t know what the rush was all about. She wasn’t going anywhere, he wasn’t going anywhere, and they were preparing for a national tour in less than a month. The timing for this wedding was beyond impractical.
Lauren smacked her butt with the pillow. “Get up. We’re going.”
Denver pressed her nose into her pillow. Maybe she could suffocate herself. That was totally a way to get out of it.
Lauren rolled Denver onto her back. “No, you can’t get out of it by blacking out from oxygen deprivation.”
Denver slapped her mattress. “You found me out.”
Lauren sailed out of the room, leaving the door open. “Elle is picking us up in ten minutes. Chop, chop.”
Knowing her crew, ten minutes meant a “girl” ten minutes, which meant she had time for a shower. She stood under the punishing needles of hot water for precisely eight minutes before she stepped out and dried off. She slathered herself in lotion until she felt awake enough to attempt her day of girl time.
Sweet Jesus save her.
Ten minutes later, Elle was honking her horn outside. “Yo!”
Lauren peeked around the door to Denver’s bedroom. “Oh, I have this for you, too.” She threw a white T-shirt at Denver with a bold pink “Bride” emblazoned across her chest.
&
nbsp; Denver tossed it back at her. “That’s a hell no.”
“Elle made it for you.”
“Low blow, Bryant.” Lauren knew Denver couldn’t diss a gift from her maid of honor. “Dammit.” Denver wiggled out of her comfortable Henley and tugged the T-shirt on. “God, kill me.”
She trudged her way through the living room. Ryan and West were sitting on the couch, game controllers in hand. Gunfire and explosions erupted from the screen and reverberated around the room thanks to their surround sound.
“Can’t you save me from this?”
Ryan peeked around her to see the screen. “I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to see the dress, Colorado. Bad luck times a hundred.”
She moved so she blocked his view. “That’s a stupid old wives’ tale.”
“Don’t care. Not gonna do anything to ruin a moment of our wedding.” He hit pause and West swore. “Shut up.”
West rolled his eyes and tossed his controller aside. “I feel kissing is about to commence. I’ll be back when you’re done.”
Ryan pulled her between his legs. “Pick the first dress and shoes you see. Then we can go to that little chapel we found and do this thing.”
“Your mom will kill me if you change the date one more time.”
He pressed his forehead to her stomach. “I just want to get it over with.”
She sifted her fingers through his curls. “Gee, thanks, buddy.”
“No. You know what I mean.” He peered up at her. “I just want you to be mine.”
She pushed an errant curl away from his forehead. “I’m already yours, you dope.”
“With rings and contracts and a stupid serving set we’ll only use on Thanksgiving.”
She lowered her mouth to his. “I’ll go find a stupid dress.”
“Good. Now vamoose. I have to log back in before my team leaves me behind.”
Denver rolled her eyes. Sometimes Ryan was such a guy. She jogged out the front door.
Elle had her head stuck out the sunroof of her ancient Chevy Malibu. “Finally. Hey! You wore it.”
Denver wiggled her hips and did a little jazz hands routine. “Of course.” The pure happiness on Elle’s face made the pink worth it. Almost.
Molly waved her fingers through the open sunroof and dragged Elle back down into her seat. “Let’s get this show on the road, bitches.”
Lauren was already at the driver’s side door with the seat flipped forward so they could both climb into the coupe.
The trip into the city included a stop at a cafe, so at least she managed to find a decent cup of tea. Elle was flicking through her phone and she and Molly were discussing streets and the best way to get to a corner of the city Denver had never heard of. Considering that was almost impossible, she broke into the conversation. “What are you two hatching?”
Elle huffed out an annoyed breath. “I know you aren’t wild for this shopping thing, but Vera Wang is having a trunk sale today.”
“Vera Wang?” Denver questioned in a hushed tone. “No way in hell can I afford that.” Just because it was her biggest secret wish of all time meant nada. Sure, dresses weren’t usually her favorite thing, but a Vera Wang was something different altogether.
Too bad she didn’t have the scratch. She might be a Lewis by blood, but her bank account did not match—by choice.
“But you can. These are her extras from shows and weird sizes and dresses from past seasons. It’s perfect, Den.” Elle gripped her hand. “I know you love Vera Wang.”
“How—I mean, no.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “I bought you that stack of wedding magazines and the only pages you went back to and tagged were the ones including her dresses. I know you love them.”
“I love them like a kid loves playing Barbie. None of it belongs in reality.”
“What does it hurt to look? If nothing else, you can at least touch one.”
Denver jammed her hands into her pockets. “God, you suck so bad. I’m going to kill you if you get my hopes up and the dress is seventy bajillion dollars.”
“Surely it would be more like thirty bajillion.” Elle slipped her arm through Denver’s and pulled her back to the car. “Now if you would just work your magic on finding this ridiculous dead-end street, we could go.”
“I didn’t know I needed to bring my maps with me.” Denver dug her phone out of her pocket. “All right, let’s find the cross street closest to it.” A few minutes later, they had a destination mapped into Elle’s GPS and they were off.
The street was truly in the middle of nowhere in Beverly Hills. The winding road ended in a steep incline up to a pool house that definitely didn’t have a real address. And even with the super-secret trunk sale, there were still a dozen girls loitering outside the large garden with a domed covering.
Greenery exploded everywhere and orchids of every color bloomed from every spare corner of the space. There weren’t really any trunks at one of these things, just ridiculous rolling racks full of endless shades of white.
Or so she’d thought.
Denver couldn’t hide a smile when an honest to God trunk sat in front of a gorgeous fountain. Inside were carefully wrapped tiaras and veils. Flanking the pretty vintage trunks were sturdy rolling racks with dress bags and sold tags.
She wandered to another display in an alcove. Denver touched the vanilla-colored ballerina dress with silvery thread woven into the layers and layers of tulle.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?”
She turned to the voice, a smile plastered on her face. “It’s gorgeous. A bit too much for me.”
The woman with the blond chignon clipped a sold sign on the shoulder. “Handy, since this one is unavailable.” She brushed her hand over the skirt of her lilac dress. “Are you a bride or wedding party?”
“I’m just looking.”
“Ahh, so you’re a bride.” The woman gave her a soft smile. “I recognize the deer-in-headlights look. And you know, the shirt.”
Denver laughed and glanced down at her shirt. “Overzealous maid of honor.” She scanned the room for her friends, and caught them all with Molly, who held a stunning white dress up against her chest as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror.
“That’s not your style either.” The blond held out her hand. “I’m Suze.”
“Denver.” She shook her hand, happy to find a firm grip.
“Interesting name.” Suze tilted her head. “Suits you.” She pressed her lips together then opened her arm. “Why don’t you come over here?”
“Look, my friends brought me here on a lark. You know, just to say I touched a Vera dress. It’s really out of my price range, so you shouldn’t waste your time or commission on me.”
“Nonsense. Every bride is important. And to prove that fact, I want you to come with me to a special little area we have set up.”
“Is this the discount area?” Denver asked with a twitch of her lips.
“No. I only show it to a few people.”
Denver laughed and rolled her eyes. “If you say so.” She followed Suze out of the beautiful domed building into a smaller room streaming with sunshine.
She moved to the rack and flicked the hangers aside until she came up with a single dress.
Denver’s breath caught at the perfect skirt of champagne and ivory lace over tulle. It was a strapless dress with a long ruby red sash across the bust then looped around the cinched-in waist. She touched the skirt with trembling fingers. “No way can I even try that on.”
“Oh, you will, and you are.” Suze waved at another girl. “Nikki will help you change and I’ll find your girlfriends.”
“Wait.” She blew out a breath, but Suze was gone. “Does she do that a lot?”
Nikki grinned and snagged a strapless bra from a smaller rack. “Not really, to be honest. She must really like you.” She unhooked the gown and walked—well, floated actually—to the small alcove. “Get yourself situated and I’ll help you get into this. Thirty-two C?”
&nbs
p; Denver glanced down at her breasts. “Um, yes.”
Nikki grinned. “I’ve been doing this for years.” She handed her the bra. “Don’t be shy. I’ll be right back.”
“Right.” She shucked her jeans and traded her comfy bralette for the form-fitted bra.
“Ready?”
She heard Lauren’s bawdy laugh as her girls came into the smaller sitting area. If the burble of a fountain didn’t scream money, the sweet scent of lilies and roses would have sealed her fate.
Denver hiked her bra up where it should be. “Ready.”
Nikki came in with her dress—no, the dress. The dress, not her dress. Even if she coveted it as completely as she did a lifetime with Ryan. “Arms up and squat down a little for me.”
Denver lifted her arms and did as she was told. The slightly scratchy tulle gave way to the angel-soft satin lining of the dress. It floated around her and settled like it had been made for her. “Oh, God, don’t show me. I can’t see it.”
Nikki stepped behind her and did up the trio of buttons, then fussed with the sash. “You know this is the one for you. Even without the mirror, you know.”
Denver shook her head. “No way.”
Nikki pushed her out of the small changing room into the main sitting area.
Elle got to her feet immediately and slapped her hand over her mouth. Her huge blue eyes instantly filled. “Oh, Den.”
"Don’t you cry, dammit. We’ve been over this. I can’t do tears, Elle.”
Lauren came up next to Elle. “Ryan is going to shit.”
Denver shook out the skirts that covered her feet. “Exactly what I’m looking for when I show this off to my husband-to-be.”
Lauren giggled. “You don’t even know, Den. It’s just…wow.”
Molly stood and came over to Denver without a word. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek then circled her before tucking a hank of curly hair around her ear. “Buy it. Now. I don’t care if I have to hook on Rodeo Drive. You’re getting that dress.”
Denver blinked. “What?”
Molly crossed her arms. “It’s the single-most perfect dress I’ve ever seen.”
Suze swept into the room. “I told you it was.” Her lilac skirt swirled around her knees. “And you will be wearing it. Vera uses these trunk parties to try out a few of her new dresses. The one you’re wearing is from the new winter collection.”