The Favor

“Are you going to show it to me?” asked Dane.

“Nope.” I gave him a smile that was all mock sympathy. “You’ll have to wait until next Saturday.”

“I don’t like to wait.”

“That’s not fresh news. The answer is still no.”

He went to take the bag from me. “I’ll carry it.”

“Oh no. I don’t trust that you won’t accidentally-on-purpose bust the zip or something just so you can have a peek.” Conscious that he was trailing behind me, I hauled the bag up to my bedroom closet. Hoping like hell that the rail didn’t snap under the weight of the bag, I carefully hung it up. The rail thankfully held.

I was eager to try on the full assemble, but I wasn’t going to do it when Dane stood a few feet away from me. I decided to try it on either later or tomorrow while he was preoccupied with other things.

Honestly, I had mixed feelings about the reception. On the one hand, it would be fun to see how Chris and Miley brought their “vision” to life, and it would be great to have the people we liked and cared for gathered together in the same place.

On the other hand, it would be as fake as the ceremony, which put a real downer on it all. Moreover, there would also be people there who wanted nothing more than to be a pain in my ass in whatever ways they could. Especially Heather and whoever she took along …

That was when it hit me.

My brow knitted, I turned to Dane. “It only just occurred to me that Heather didn’t have a guest on the seating arrangement.”

“I told Chris and Miley that she wasn’t allowed to bring one,” he explained.

“You did? Why?”

“Because I don’t trust that she won’t invite someone like her friend from the barbecue and have them aid her in doing something stupid.”

“Yeah, she probably would have brought Jana along. I’m really hoping that Heather chooses not to attend the reception. It is possible that she’ll pull out at the last second and claim she has the flu or something.”

He cocked his head. “You think so?”

“Yes, because she’d have to behave herself. She doesn’t want her parents to know she’s blackmailing Junior’s father, and she knows you’ll out her if she pushes you too far.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No. Heather knows you’d much prefer that she didn’t attend, so she’ll come to the reception purely to spite you.”

I felt my nose wrinkle. “I never thought of that.” I puffed out a breath. “Being without a guest won’t stop her from making a scene if it’s what she’s intent on doing.”

“I know that. Which is why I asked Ashley and Hanna to keep an eye on her.”

I felt my brow furrow. “You did?”

“I don’t want you to have to waste a second of the day worrying about where Heather is or what she’s doing. I’d prefer to scratch her off the guest list altogether, but that would offend your foster parents, who might then refuse to come to the reception. You’re right that she won’t want us to out her blackmail scheme. I doubt she’ll attend the reception planning to cause drama. But that’s not to say she won’t do something stupid. You’re going to be the center of attention—she’ll hate that. She may not handle it well.”

True. She’d never handled it well in the past. “If it makes you feel any better, Melinda’s sisters will probably do their best to stop Heather from doing anything dumb. They know how she can be. Whenever they came to visit over the years, they always chimed in whenever she said or did anything bitchy to me.”

“At least someone did.” His eyes darkened. “Be aware that if she steps out of line at the reception, I won’t ignore it, Vienna. You’ve dealt with enough shit from that woman. Those days are over. She doesn’t get to do that to you anymore. I won’t allow it.”

I’d wax my eyebrows clean off before I’d admit it, but his protectiveness woke my libido right up every time.

“The same goes for Travis and Hope,” he went on. “They’ll be just as closely watched, and they’ll be just as swiftly handled if they decide to play games. In other words, don’t worry about any of them.”

“I’m not worried. I’m just so done with their bullshit. In fact, can we not talk about them? They only ever bring my mood down.”

His eyes slid to the dressing bag. “We can talk about the gown that’s hanging on that rail over there.”

Like a dog with a bone. I folded my arms. “I’m not showing it to you.”

“You can give me one peek.”

I shook my head. “Not happening.”

He took a step toward me. “I could persuade you,” he said, his eyes raking over me in a way that was nothing short of an eye-fuck.