Once I heard Riley snoring, I snuck out of the house and, for the last fifteen minutes, I have been leaning against the side of the house, still debating whether or not go through with this.
I take a deep breath. This is what I want. I mean, I spent my hour of freedom from the wedding plotting all this out. And here I am now, standing outside of Riley’s bedroom window and hoping that the trial run wasn’t a fluke. Because, if it was a fluke and I get stuck in the window, then that will put a definite damper on my plans.
I do a quick look around to make sure that no cars are coming, and push the window open as quietly as I can. When I can still hear Riley’s faint snoring, I take a leap and manage to get my upper body into the window. Fortunately, the window is lower to the ground than most windows, which makes breaking and entering much easier for me.
Riley is still asleep as I manage to wriggle into the window more. I’m also glad to see that Jackson is snoozing quietly on the edge of the bed. That dog is useless when it comes to preventing break-ins. I try to stay quiet, but I’m in the window from waist up and I’m starting to have trouble.
When I did this trial run, I was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, not the Dress from Hell. And, up until this point, I didn’t think about the hoop skirt not fitting through the window. I don’t know how I didn’t think of the hoop skirt because that damn thing has forever been burned into my retinas. But I’m stupid and forgot about the hoop skirt not having any elasticity or bend and now I’m completely screwed.
“Son of a bitch, I’m stuck.”
I am stuck in Riley’s bedroom window at midnight. My legs are hanging out the window and I am going to be seen by a cop and arrested for burglary. And in my mug shot I’m going to still be wearing this damn dress. When I don’t make bail and am convicted of breaking and entering (provided the insanity plea doesn’t work out in my favor), I’ll be thrown into prison and will have to become someone’s bitch.
And I don’t want to be someone’s bitch!
I move around frantically, trying to fall in or out of the window. At this point, I don’t care. As long as I get out of the window and am able to avoid prison, I don’t care.
“Riley.” I whisper. He stirs in his sleep but is otherwise unaffected, neither is Jackson. “Riley.” I say a little louder. Nothing. “Callahan!”
At my shriek, Riley sits upright in his bed and looks around. There’s enough light coming from the street (and from the nightlight I made him put in his room after his zombie scare) that I can see him blinking quickly to try to acquaint his vision to the dark. When his eyes land on me, he smiles and gets an amused chuckle stuck in his throat.
“What in the hell are you doing, Reynolds?”
“Trying to be romantic.” I grumble, still fighting to get in the window. “Feel free to help me out.”
Riley gets out of bed and comes over to the window and looks down at me, “I don’t know if I want to help you. I think it’d be far more amusing to watch you get out of this mess yourself.”
I swat my arm at his leg but he jumps back and is completely out of my reach.
“Whatcha gonna do now?”
I look up at him and glare, “Do you not want to have sex ever again?”
He laughs and kneels down in front of me and tries to figure out the exact situation.
“Is there any way that you can take the hoop skirt off now?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s all under the dress in some weird pulley system. I have a new respect for any woman in the 1800s who wore these damn things. No wonder they wanted equal rights and the opportunity to wear pants. I’ll never curse my jeans ever again, even if the buttons fall off or the zipper breaks and. . .”
“Hands.” Riley interrupts me and grabs my hands. While he attempts to pull me through the window, I wriggle around and hope that the hoop skirt will finally give because a.) this is really starting to hurt, and b.) Riley looks really cute right now with his hair all mussed and without a shirt.
I hear something crack – I’m not sure if it’s the hoop skirt or the window frame – and I go crashing into the room and land on top with Riley. A loud “oomph” escapes his lips.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I ask with a light chuckle.
He nods as he rubs his elbow, “You’re giggling really shows your depth of concern for my well being.”
I laugh again, “Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”
“Knudsen got hurt too, you know.” He winks as I roll my eyes. “When did you plan this out?”
“When I couldn’t find you before the wedding. I thought this would be more than enough to make up for it. I just didn’t take in account the fact that this damn dress comes with some liabilities.”
“Well, we best get you out of the dress as soon as we can then.”
“I see that my plan is materializing in the right direction.”
He kisses my nose before motioning for me to get up. “Why did you do all this?”
I stand up and lend a hand to him, “You said that you’ve been waiting for me to crawl through your bedroom window and lie down next to you for years.”
Riley wraps his arms around me and begins to unzip my dress, “You take everything so literally.” He plants kisses down my neck, “And I’m so glad that you do.”
We’re quiet for a minute as we kiss and head to his bed, shedding clothes and any fears that I ever had. Riley manages to pry the hoop skirt off of me (making me grateful for more than one reason) before we collapse on his bed.
“I put a box of preservativos in the nightstand earlier too.” I smile, glad to know how to say the word ‘condom’ in Spanish now.
Riley kisses my forehead, “You’re brilliant.”
“Was that a compliment, Callahan?”
“You better get used to it, Reynolds.”
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
DEDICTION
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid) Page 19