Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I can’t resist teasing him. “The outlet mall is a couple miles away. You guys want to go?”
“Sure,” Ledger says, like, if there’s a fate worse than wearing Crocs, he’s found it in shopping.
Dev winces then pastes on a fake smile. “Whatever you need.”
Ha! I’ve found Dev’s kryptonite. He dreads commerce. But he loves helping more.
I have another plan though. But first, I need better shoes. “Can you pop the trunk?” I ask Ledger.
Fishing out the key fob from his pants, he complies. I root around inside my bag and grab my black lace-up boots my brother left for me. I’m going to owe him a lifetime of babysitting his twins for saving me today.
Hopping on one foot in the parking lot, I yank off a satin pump and toss it in the trunk. Then I tug on a boot and tie it up. I flamingo my way through the next one, then chuck the other white heel in the trunk too.
After slamming it closed, I clomp over to the passenger side, grabbing my purse from the floor of the car. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the guys.
I march into the store and grab what I need, paying with my phone and ignoring the messages that have lit up the screen like a Vegas slot machine.
I leave the store and find both men standing on the sidewalk, looking a little perplexed, until I wield a pair of scissors. I park my butt on the hot concrete. “Sometimes, you just need a new style.”
Concern flashes in Dev’s eyes. Ledger’s too. Maybe they’re worried I freaked out over a veil but am somehow willing to murder all this lace. “I bought the dress myself. This isn’t an heirloom,” I explain.
Dev’s expression flashes with understanding. “You’re gonna trash the dress.”
I’m impressed he knows what that means. “Yup.”
Ledger shoots him a curious look. “What is that? Is that a thing?”
“It was this whole trend for a while,” Dev explains as I gather up the material. “The bride ruins the dress on purpose after the wedding while a photographer snaps pictures. The bride and groom run through the ocean, or get covered in paint. Or they stand under a waterfall with her in the dress. Or she’s caked in mud in her dress on the side of the road, and he kisses her.”
While I snip the first chunk out of the dress, Ledger asks Dev, “How do you know that? You keep up on wedding news?”
“It’s not wedding news. It’s just news. And yes, I keep up on it. Try reading a paper once in a while.”
“A paper? How old are you?”
With the scissors, I bite off another satisfying heap of lace and tulle.
“Dude,” Dev says. “I’m five years younger than you! And they have papers online. There’s this thing called the Internet.”
“And here I thought the Internet was a portal to doomscrolling hell,” Ledger says, then they go silent.
For several seconds, I hack up the dress, only stopping when I realize they’re staring at me. I look up.
“Whoa,” Dev says, a little astonished.
“Holy shit,” Ledger seconds, sounding impressed.
Pride radiates through my chest, down my arms to my fingertips. I might not know how to pick men, but give me a pair of scissors? Your girl is a gold medalist. I’m feeling pretty damn good about my handiwork so far. “Not too bad?”
Dev’s eyes are wide, his lips parted. “You’re a scissor virtuoso.”
That gives me an idea. Who doesn’t find ripping a sheet in half satisfying? This hits a similar nerve. I waggle the scissors at them. “Want to help?”
Dev raises a finger. “Would you want a pic of you trashing the dress?”
I want nothing more. “Yes!”
Dev dips into his pocket and grabs his phone while I offer the scissors to Ledger. “Want to slice some more off?”
With a when in Rome shrug, Ledger kneels in front of me, taking the tool, then wincing for a quick second. Maybe he knelt on a rock? But that flash of pain is gone almost as soon as it appeared. I gather up some of the material from the back of the dress, then twist it around to the front. “Start here.”
“Got it,” he says, studying the fabric for a beat before he takes the hunk of material, grazing my thigh. A little charge of electricity shoots up my leg.
That’s nice.
But he flinches, then freezes. Great. Just great. He’s weirded out by touching me. That would be my luck today.
Ledger doesn’t even raise his face. He’s frozen in place, staring down at my thighs while I look at his short, dark hair. It’s different from Dev’s. Different from Aiden’s. A clean, neat look.
I like it, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable. “You don’t have to.”
He swallows noticeably, maybe sorting out his thoughts. “I just didn’t realize you were wearing stockings,” he rasps out, his gaze still locked on the sheer white thigh-highs, only a few shades lighter than my can-never-hold-a-tan legs.