Chasing Lustre (Sweetheart Falls)

1. Prologue

Prologue

Blyth

“ H oly tulle explosion,” I choke when my best friend hobbles out of the dressing room. The bright white wedding gown dwarfs her petite frame as layer after layer of crinkly material tries to swallow her whole.

“That bad?” Tilly bites her bottom lip, and her cheeks turn a rosy pink. Walking forward, she spins until the three-way mirror captures every angle of the hideous monstrosity. The second she glimpses her reflection, a gasp escapes. “Oh, sheesh. It’s worse than I even imagined.”

A manic laugh breaks from her, and she doubles over, unable to hold it in any longer. The impossibly tight bodice combined with the giant puffed-up shoulder pads causes the dress to attack her. The tulle monstrosity eats her before my very eyes, and I can’t keep my amusement at bay for another second at the sight. Our howls alert the elderly shopkeeper, who bustles over.

“Well, my dears, are these shouts of joy I hear?” Bright purple hair adorns the top of her head, and she wears a thick knitted sweater with cat faces all over it. She has the sweetest smile and kindest eyes—even if the dresses in her shop don’t seem to be from this era. Sobering quickly to avoid offending her, Tilly and I paste big, cheerful grins on our faces.

“It’s a great contender, Gertie,” I say, lying through my teeth. “But I think we would like to see a few more before making a decision. Would it be okay if we browse the racks ourselves?”

“Oh, of course, lovely girls. I have two more you simply must try on Tilly. But Blyth, feel free to peruse my beauties and pull anything you think would suit her.” Gertie grabs my bestie’s hand and then drags her back toward the dressing room. Tilly’s long brown hair swings behind her as her eyes pin me with a ‘save me’ look.

I hold up my hands—there’s nothing to be done. We can’t upset Gertie. Plus, this is her punishment for dragging me to a dress shop six hours away from Lustre Lake when we have a much nicer one locally. Not to mention, there are about a hundred in the city, which is only about an hour’s drive from our sleepy little town.

Could we go to any of those? Nope. Not that I mind. Any excuse to avoid home—and my burned-out shell of a house—is good with me.

Plus, Sweetheart Falls is darling. It’s smaller than Lustre, but the quaint shops, quiet atmosphere, and incredible diner make me feel at home. The town is alive with festive summer colors, and all the people we’ve met have been friendly—not to mention the full-on vacation vibes.

Yes. I very much like this place.

My feet carry me toward a rack near the window; sliding my hand over the different gowns, I flick through them, searching for something more Tilly’s style. She prefers a modern over a vintage aesthetic, so I shove through some of the bedazzled gowns.

This quantity of rhinestones and beads should be illegal.

With every new dress, I become happier and happier that I won’t be planning a wedding for myself anytime soon. Absolutely not.

In fact, maybe not ever.

No sooner has that thought popped into my head than the hottest man I’ve ever seen swaggers right past the window. His long black hair is tied back in a man bun that makes me want to swoon, imagining running my hands through it.

Hell yes.

Drool practically drips out the side of my mouth as I stare at him covertly from my hiding spot behind all the white frills. His muscles bunch as he walks, taking a moment to bend down and pick up a bit of litter on the ground. My nipples pucker and panties dampen just watching him stop and chat with another man. He runs a hand over his thick beard, and I wish my body were being caressed with such familiarity. Big hands sliding down to…

Whoah, down girl.

Flapping my hand, I fan my face, still unable to keep my eyes off the handsome stranger. I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to someone before.

“Find anything good?” Tilly’s voice makes me jump as she slides in beside me to glance through the rack.

“Not in here,” I mutter, jutting my chin toward the chiseled male specimen of perfection outside.

“Yes!” She squeals so loudly that I jump a foot at the awful noise. “That’s exactly who I was hoping to see.”

Hoping to see?

Tilly grabs me by the hand and sprints out the door. Digging in my heels, I make a valiant attempt to slow down this tulle train, but she’s stronger than she looks.

“Tilly. No. This isn’t a matchmaking situation. I don’t want to meet him,” I beg. But she ignores me completely—pretending like she can’t hear all my muttered curses.

“Murphy. Murphy Wesson.” Her voice echoes up and down the quiet street. Okay, maybe this isn’t about me at all. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

Snapping his head around, the sexy god of a man has the nerve to scowl when he spots us. Not intimidated, I frown right back, narrowing my eyes. He doesn’t move toward us, but neither does he flee.

Tilly finally stops, panting, right in front of him, and his eyes widen to take her in. Glancing at my bestie, I nearly snort in surprise. This new dress may be even worse than the last. It’s got to weigh ten pounds, covered top to bottom in gaudy white flowers and shimmering beads. A lengthy train and veil complete the awful ensemble.

“I’ve been looking for you, mister,” she snaps, her hands falling to her hips.

“Well, you better keep looking. I’m not the marrying type.” He immediately turns on his heel, eager to get away from the crazy bride-to-be.

“Wait. No, you’re Murphy Wesson, right? I recognize you from Drew’s pictures. I’m Tilly—Drew Hicks’s fiancé.” She shuffles around to stand in front of him once more. The dress fluffs out, making her look like a vanilla cupcake.

Sneering at her with contempt, the man scans her from head to toe. “Lucky him…”

My palm itches, wanting to slap him so freaking hard. No one talks to Tilly like that and gets away with it. His stupid, handsome face would look better with a big red print across it. Suddenly, the name clicks and I realize exactly who’s standing in front of us. The jerk who agreed to be Drew’s best man then ghosted him.

“Hey. Dickwad. Don’t talk to her that way, or you’ll deal with me.” I step forward, full of bluster and wrath. His eyes snap toward me, and the sneer falls from his face. Murphy’s hazel eyes darken with heat, scoring me. My heart rate increases, thrumming through me like a drumbeat.

No Blyth. Eviscerate him. He’s being an asshole. Ignore the pretty face.

“Is that so, Trouble?” His voice deepens, and the rasp slides over me, causing all kinds of naughty thoughts.

“Names Blyth. You agreed to be Drew’s best man—so why haven’t you answered any of their calls? Texts? Emails? What do you need to not be a shit?” The words come out in a rush that leaves me breathing heavily.

“Oh, right,” he grumbles, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Yeah. Tell Drew I can’t.”

He turns to go, and my hand darts out, grabbing hold of his thick arm. Electricity arcs between us, crackling with intensity.

“You made a promise. Are you not a man of your word?” I toss down the gauntlet.

Tilly steps up beside me, tears filling her eyes. As one slips down her cheek, Murphy’s face pales.

Typical guy. Just a few little tears.

“Please consider coming. I know it would mean the world to Drew. After what you two went through together…it…just would mean a lot to have your support…” The wobble in her voice is all it takes.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Tell Drew I’ll be there. But I have to go now.” He agrees before pulling away from me and rushing off like his ass is on fire.

His hasty retreat causes an unbidden giggle to bubble up in my throat, escaping to echo along the now quiet summer street. Turning to Tilly, I shake my head with mirth. “So, I guess he’s why we had to come here to look at antique dresses?”

“Yes. And we better get this one back in that shop before Gertie makes me buy the damn thing.”

Linking arms, we head back into Sweetheart Bridal—but my gut tells me that this won’t be the last time I step foot in Sweetheart Falls.

If Tilly wants that grump at her wedding, I’ll make sure he’s there. Even if I need to drag him down the aisle by his beard.