Page 98 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

I have so many questions I’m dying to ask, but Connor must’ve worked tirelessly organizing everything and I promise myself I’ll go with the flow and enjoy any and every surprise he has for me.

“I thought you might be hungry, I know I’m starving.” Connor lifts the silver domes from the plates revealing decadent pastries, crisp bacon, and cut melon and berries.

My stomach grumbles, and I take a plate from him and pick through the miniature bakery. Connor pops the cork on a bottle of sparkling cider and fills our glasses.

We sit to eat our lovely breakfast—or midnight snack, I still don’t know what time it is—and Connor fills me in a bit more on his grand plans.

“I know you would’ve done some of this with your sister and Liv, but I wanted today to be about the two of us. I’m the only other one here, so, if you’re not superstitious about it, I’ll have to help you into your wedding dress,” he says, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“My wedding dress?” I ask, hope and excitement rising like helium.

He leads me to the garment rack and explains, “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, but I wanted you to have choices.” He starts unzipping garment bags and I nearly faint.

“I rented a few different wedding dresses. I hope you like one of them but if you don’t, I’ll find you whatever you want,” he says nervously.

Intricate lace, slippery satin, and wispy chiffon delight my senses as I run my fingers over the delicate fabrics.

I pinch my side to prove I’m not dreaming. This is beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and this extraordinary man did it all for me. I can’t stop the tears escaping my eyes, but I wipe them away the best I can.

“I love you so much. I would’ve happily married you in our normal clothes with a twist-tie ring. This is everything. I can never thank you enough.” Connor kisses my forehead, gripping the back of my neck.

“Never thank me. This is less than you deserve—you deserve the world, but I’m honored to give you this,” he says.

Hanging on the rack are five dresses, all in an elegant off-white. A classic princess ballgown, a tea length satin slip dress, an ethereal chiffon masterpiece, a fitted mermaid gown, and a backless lace mini dress. The styles are vastly different, but somehow, suit me perfectly. I’m blown away by what Connor’s put together for me.

A tiny black bag reveals a delicate white lace thong. None of the dresses require a bra, so I strip naked and slip on the thong.

“Baby, you’re killing me, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you?” Connor groans, hands balling into fists at his side.

“You’re not, I want your hands on me,” I say.

His rough hands skate across my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He grows hard in his jeans but doesn’t act on it. He simply helps me in and out of the dresses, revering my body with gentle touches.

I revel in playing dress-up, trying on each dress and gleefully twirling in front of the mirrored wall. Each dress is met with compliments that make me blush and want to take them off to do other activities instead.

I surprise myself, and Connor, by choosing the backless lace mini dress. It makes me feel delicate and feminine, while sexy and confident. The halter-top drapes elegantly, showcasing my cleavage and is fitted to my waist, baring my shoulders and back. It hangs perfectly to mid-thigh, like it was made specifically for me.

Connor’s deft fingers carefully zip the dress, from my butt to the small of my back.

He gathers my hair over my shoulder and marks me with kisses on the exposed skin of my neck. His beard scratches, heating my blood.

A swift slap to the ass sends me on my way, high on his adoration.

As I twirl in the mirror, loving my wedding dress, Connor brings five shoe boxes to the sofa for me to choose from. I pluck a strawberry from the room service tray and delight in the sweet tang on my tongue.

I laugh in glee at the shoes Connor’s arranged for me. The open boxes showcase bedazzled white Chuck Taylors, ballet flats, strappy heels, classic pumps, and an impossibly beautiful pair of cowboy boots.

I don’t bother trying on the other shoes because I know exactly what I want.

The boots are a delicate snip toe with a slightly higher heel, in light tan leather. Intricate white leather and stitching adorns the boot as if it’s draped in lace. My fingers reverently graze the crystals studded into the design.

“They’re yours, baby. I didn’t think we needed to buy the dress—I mean, I will in a heartbeat if you want to keep it—but I intended on buying whatever shoes you chose along with these boots. They were yours the moment I saw them.”

Connor motions for me to sit on the couch and he gets down on his knees, rolling soft white wool socks up my calves, and slips my feet into the boots like I’m Cinderella. He helps me to my feet, and I admire myself in the mirror.

“You look incredible, doll. I can’t wait to marry you,” Connor says, kissing my beard-burned shoulder, already sensitive to his touch.

“Would you like to choose your jewelry?” he asks.