“Probably because various family members would be disappointed at the lack of pageantry.”
She snorted. “Screw them. Marriage should be about the two people getting married and what they want. It’s not about anyone else.”
“Hear hear.”
“Don’t tell my mother. I’ve disappointed her enough by staying single until I’m nearly thirty.”
“Oh, she and my grandmother can form a support group.”
“I’m pretty sure that might be one of the most terrifying thoughts I’ve had in years.”
“You’re right,” he said. “They’d be terrors together. New plan: Keep them as far apart as possible.”
“Deal.”
“I’ve missed the hell out of you, Piper.”
“Back atcha.” She smiled at him. “I nearly broke down and called you at least two dozen times.”
He reached across the center console to tangle his fingers with hers. His expressive face was sober as he looked over. “Did anything change for you during that cooling off period?”
“Yes.” He started to pull away, but she tightened her grip. “I got confirmation that this...thing between us has nothing to do with the roles we played on stage. Which is exactly what I wanted to know.”
“Good. Because I’m just as crazy about you now as I was in December.” His admission made her giddy. The kind of champagne bubble excitement she hadn’t felt since she got her first kiss from Robert Hudson in Meet Me In Saint Louis.
She flexed her hand so she could trace a thumb around his palm. “I’m glad you waited around for me. A lot of guys wouldn’t have.”
“A lot of guys are dumbasses. Their loss.”
They rode in comfortable silence back to his house. He pulled into the garage and put the door down. By the time she wedged her aching feet back into the heels, he’d skirted around the front of the car and opened her door. It felt just a little glamorous to take his hand and be helped out. Just a little reckless to be tugged up against his body, frissons of heat and awareness racing along her nerves.
He stepped back and let them into the house. “Now, let’s get you out of that travesty of a dress.”
Piper’s pulse leapt with anticipation, but Myles didn’t pull her into his arms. Instead, he released her hand and strode down the hall. Unsure what else to do, she followed. The bedroom was too minimalist to be his—no knickknacks scattered over the dresser or nightstand. She knew him well enough to know that he always had something readily available to occupy his hands.
He opened a bureau drawer. “What is it with women? It’s like y’all save up every infraction against each other and unleash the revenge in the form of the most hideous possible bridesmaids dresses. What’d you do to your cousin?”
“Maybe it was that I enforced her bedtime one too many times when I babysat her as a kid.”
“Well, if you want to have a ritual burning, it’s not too warm for a fire.” He handed over a set of pajamas.
Piper arched a brow. “I’m afraid the chemical fumes would kill us. This,” she shook the dress, “just isn’t natural. Should I be concerned that you just happen to have a set of women’s pajamas?”
“My sister leaves some emergency stuff here for when she comes to visit.”
“Well, there’s something new. I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“And a brother, Grady. Both younger. Skye’s the baby.”
“Well, then I shall be grateful Skye’s close to my size.”
“Go on and get changed. I’ll get started on the rest.”
As he left the room, Piper wondered with pounding pulse just what the rest would be.
Chapter 3
Myles had the popcorn on the stove and some of the kitchen chairs hauled into the middle of the living room floor by the time Piper came back out. He tried not to notice how the little tank top hugged her curves, but failed miserably. It wasn’t that there was more skin exposed than there had been in the dress. It was the intimacy of seeing her in pjs. Didn’t matter that he’d seen Skye in the same ones. He sure as hell hadn’t been fantasizing about her for the last six months.