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She could have been riding off in a shiny wedding limousine with the wrong man tonight. Instead, she’s riding shot gun in this rusty, shitty car with me. And despite the complications, this just feels right.
I’ll keep her safe.
Eventually, we make it to my place and I pull into my driveway. Which is basically just a bare patch of my big front yard covered in bits of gravel I threw down eons ago. I rush around the hood of the car to help her extricate herself from the passenger seat. Then, I grab her suitcase from the trunk.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Genevieve’s door swing open and I can feel her watching us from her camper across the yard. It’s dark out so I can’t make her out clearly but I can just imagine her drawn-on eyebrow popping upward as she watches my former employee follow me into my house.Wearing a freaking wedding dress.
Oh, boy. The local rumor mill will be churning before sunrise.
Usually, I do everything in my power to keep my name out of Starlight Falls gossip. But after everything that’s happened, I don’t want to let Inez out of my sight tonight.
Fuck it. She’s worth the hassle.
I give Gen a little wave and lead Inez up the front porch. Shrugging off the weight of my apprehension, I unlock my front door and we head inside.
I flick on the switch and warm light washes over the scuffed wooden panels and the faded floral wallpaper of my outdated entryway.
I turn to Inez. “Are you hungry? I’m sure I could heat up some leftovers.”
“I’m good, but thank you.” She offers a little nod. “I’m just exhausted.”
I give her another once-over, taking her in in all that silk and lace. For a long moment, I stand there, just enraptured by how clearly Inez Machado makes the perfect bride. I’m glad that she didn’t marry that douche. Yet at the same time, I hate that she didn’t get her day as a princess. I hate it so much.
“What?” she asks, clearly feeling self-conscious at all my gawking.
You’re pretty as fuck. That’s what.
I quickly shake my head. “Nothing. Let’s get you set up with somewhere to sleep.”
My eyes swing to the living room, off to the left. The stiff plastic-covered reddish-yellowish-brownish loveseat with its strategically-placed velvet pin-tuck cushions isn’t exactly sleep-friendly.
I pause, scratching at my bearded jaw. “How about the couch in my office? It’s not much better, but it’d offer more privacy than being out here.”
Really, I’d prefer to offer her my own bed. But I don’t want to make things even weirder here.
“That sounds perfect,” she says extra agreeably. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
She’s overcompensating, trying too hard to act like everything’s a-okay. Who am I to judge her? My nonchalant facade isn’t exactly honest, either. We’re both implicitly lying our asses off about how remarkably awkward this whole situation is.
I walk her down the narrow hallway, past the framed watercolor landscape paintings, the family photos and the decorative plates hanging on the walls.
This one story craftsman-style house was another hand-me-down from my grandparents. I haven’t updated it much in the past six years. My mother gives me so much shit for that. But I’ve been hesitant to get started on a renovation project that I know I won’t have the time to finish. So, for the time being, granny chic decor, it is.
I open the door to the office and leave Inez there with her suitcase. Then I shuffle across the hall to my bedroom to grab her a clean T-shirt. I grab a pillow and some sheets from the linen closet, too.
When I return a moment later, I find Inez standing in the middle of the room, arms twisting around awkwardly to try and reach behind her back.
She turns around and meets my stare. “Hey, do you think you could…” She motions toward the zipper that trails down the middle of her back. The one she can’t reach.
“Oh. Uh. Sure,” I mutter, dropping everything onto the couch.
I swallow roughly. Then I step forward and reach for the small white zipper. The voice in my head yells at me. Bad idea, Nolan. Bad idea.
Holding my breath, I pull downward slowly, afraid to damage her dress. Afraid to touch her skin. Afraid to take a breath. Afraid to do anything, really.
I’m overly-cautious, carefully trying to grasp only the zipper and not touch her bare flesh.
But despite my efforts to be the perfect gentleman, I find myself becoming turned on with every inch of Inez’s smooth skin that I expose.
