Say You'll Marry Me
He closed his eyes to bring forward the picture of her in that dress. Upswept hair exposed the elegant line of her neck and delicate shoulders. Snug, beaded material hugged her breasts, pushing them up to reveal alluring swells and enticing cleavage. Smooth, white fabric enhanced the curve of her hips, and every time she’d gathered the train to keep from tripping, he’d enjoyed each glimpse of her long, slender legs.
“Mission accomplished.”
“It didn’t freak you out?” she teased. “Not even a little bit?”
“It was unexpected, I will admit, but even I can’t deny it was a very nice distraction. You know, the dress.” And you.
“Well, thanks, but I’m donating that dress. I like my other one better anyway.”
Other one? “You have two wedding dresses? How many times have you been engaged?”
“Just the once.”
“So, why two?”
“I bought the first one before I ever met Luke.”
“I see. Because you’re not obsessed with getting married at all,” he deadpanned.
“I swear, I’m not,” she insisted with a laugh. “When I saw it, it just…I don’t know, spoke to me. And now that I said that out loud, it sounds stupid.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He hesitated with his next words, but decided to chance the subject. “I felt the same thing the first time I strummed a guitar. Couldn’t leave the store without it even though it meant ramen noodles for weeks.”
“A guitar is a little less crazy than a wedding dress.”
“The sentiment is the same, so I get it. The part about it speaking to you, anyway. I still don’t get why you’d buy a second dress, though.”
She sighed. “Luke didn’t care for the style. Of the first one, I mean.”
“Well, as we both know, the guy’s an idiot.”
“You haven’t seen that dress. It might be hideous.”
“As long as you like it, that’s all that matters. Besides, you’d look beautiful in anything.” And even better in nothing.
That got him another laugh. A slightly breathless one, he noticed.
“Nice. But I’m still not going to sleep with you.”
Had she read his mind, or had he accidently spoken that last bit out loud? He quickly muttered a heartfelt, “Damn it,” as if she’d figured him out, and thankfully her humor remained.
The ease with which they joked made his chest tighten. Now that he was past his preconceived notions about her, he enjoyed their talk. Kissing her was better, but he’d take what he could get. Heck, even the dinner with her grandparents had been something he hadn’t realized he missed in his life.
Family. Friends.
Someone to love.
That thought slammed his heart into his ribs. The dangerous road he’d warned himself not to take had just reached a hairpin curve, and he was going ninety miles per hour. He didn’t even realize he’d voiced the next question until it sat in the air between them.
“Do you still love him?”
Chapter 11
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Joy swirled Gram’s ancient wooden spoon around a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce Wednesday afternoon, staring out the window for a glimpse of Logan. She’d teased about not sleeping with him, but the way those kisses kept coming, she’d resigned herself—without even a smidgeon of shame—to the likelihood it would happen sooner or later.
Then he’d asked, “Do you still love him?”