Chapter Twelve
MARLEY
The boutique Beck drags us to is the kind of place where everything looks expensive and intimidating.
Mannequins pose in the windows wearing dresses that cost more than the total amount my savings account has ever had.
And there’s a champagne station near the entrance, as if we’re at some upscale party instead of a store.
“Beck, this is too much,” I whisper as we walk in. “I can’t afford anything here.”
“Who said you’re paying?” He’s already greeting the sales associate like they’re old friends. “Hi, yes, we need dresses for a gala. Something that screams ‘You’re going to regret letting this goddess go,’ but in a classy way.”
The associate, a woman named Simone with perfect hair and a measuring tape draped around her neck like a fashion stole, looks me up and down with the kind of assessment that usually makes me want to hide.
But then Nitro’s hand lands on my lower back, solid and warm and reassuring. “She’s going to look stunning in whatever she wears,” he says, his voice carrying that low, protective edge I’m starting to recognize. “We’re just here to find something that makes her feel as beautiful as she is.”
Simone’s expression softens. “Well, with that attitude, we’re going to have fun. Come with me, honey.”
Two hours later, I’ve tried on approximately fifteen dresses. Each one gets a reaction from Beck and Nitro, who’ve set up camp in the sitting area outside the fitting rooms, as if this were their personal fashion show.
The first dress is too tight, cutting into my sides and making me hyperaware of every curve.
“Next,” Beck calls out before I even fully emerge.
The second is too loose, swallowing my figure entirely.
“Definitely not,” Nitro agrees.
By the sixteenth dress, I’m starting to lose steam. Everything feels wrong, too revealing, too conservative, too trendy, too dated. I stare at myself in the fitting room mirror, wearing a navy blue dress that’s perfectly nice and perfectly boring, and feel tears prick my eyes.
Derek’s voice echoes in my head. ‘Maybe when you lose forty or fifty pounds…’
“Marley?” Beck’s voice comes through the door. “You okay in there?”
“Yeah, just… give me a minute.”
But I can hear them talking in low voices outside, and then Nitro’s deep rumble, “Let me.”
There’s a soft knock. “Marley? Can I come in?”
I shouldn’t let him.
I am vulnerable and raw, and I’m wearing a dress I hate while fighting back tears.
But I open the door anyway.
Nitro fills the doorway, and his expression shifts the moment he sees my face. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…” I gesture helplessly at myself. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. Everything feels wrong.”
He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and suddenly the spacious fitting room feels incredibly small. He’s so close I can smell his cologne, something woodsy and masculine that makes my pulse race.
“Do you like this one?” he asks quietly.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.” His hands settle on my hips, gentle but firm, turning me to face the mirror. He stands behind me, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection. “Do you like it?”
I look at myself, really look.
The dress is fine.
Safe.
Forgettable.
“No,” I admit. “I hate it.”
“Then we keep looking.” His thumbs trace small circles on my hips, and I’m torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away. “But, Small Town, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“Every single dress you’ve tried on today, you’ve looked beautiful.
Not because of the dress, but because it’s you wearing it.
” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “That dickhead ex of yours did a number on your head, made you think you’re not enough.
But I see you. The real you. And you are so far beyond enough that for some reason you cannot comprehend it. ”
My throat tightens. “Nitro…”
“I’m not done.” He turns me to face him, hands sliding up to my elbows.
“We’re going to find you a dress that makes you feel like the stunning, brilliant, funny-as-hell woman you are.
And when we do, when you walk into that gala wearing it, Derek’s going to see exactly what he lost. Not because you changed for him, but because you finally believe what I’ve known since the moment I saw you crying in the back of my car. ”
“What’s that?”
His eyes search mine, intense and sincere. “That you’re absolutely fucking extraordinary.”
The air between us crackles with something electric. We’re standing so close that one small movement would close the gap entirely. Nitro’s gaze drops to my lips for just a second before snapping back up, and I watch him wrestle with whatever he’s feeling.
“We should…” I swallow hard. “We should keep looking.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t move. “We should.”
Neither of us budges.
Then Beck’s voice cuts through the moment. “If you two are making out in there, please wait until I can document it for fake-dating evidence.”
Nitro steps back with a rueful laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Your brother has terrible timing.”
“The absolute worst,” I agree, trying to ignore the way my heart is hammering against my ribs.
He opens the door, holding it for me. “Come on, Small Town. There’s one more section we haven’t looked at yet.”
That’s when Simone appears, holding a dress draped over her arms as if it’s made of spun silk. “I’ve been saving this one,” she says with a knowing smile. “I think it might be exactly what we’re looking for.”
The dress is burgundy, deep, rich, and gorgeous. Off-the-shoulder with a sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice that flows into a skirt with just enough movement to be elegant without being impractical. It’s sophisticated, sexy, and somehow exactly what I didn’t know I was looking for.
“Oh,” Beck breathes. “Oh, that’s the one.”
“Try it on,” Nitro urges, and there’s something in his voice that makes me take the dress from Simone without protest.
Back in the fitting room, I slip into it, my hands shaking. The fabric slides over my curves like it was made for me, hugging in all the right places while leaving room to breathe. The color makes my red hair look like fire, and the neckline…
I stare at myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back.
She looks confident, beautiful, and powerful.
“Marley?” Beck calls. “You going to show us or what?”
I take a deep breath, smooth down the skirt, and step out of the fitting room.
The reaction is immediate.
Beck’s jaw literally drops. “Holy shit.”
But it’s Nitro’s reaction that steals my breath.
He’s been lounging in one of the chairs, completely relaxed, but the moment I appear, he goes utterly still.
His eyes track over me slowly, starting at my face and traveling down, and I watch the muscle in his jaw tick.
His hands grip the armrests of the chair as though he’s physically restraining himself.
“Nitro?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He stands slowly, never taking his eyes off me, and crosses the space between us in three long strides. When he reaches me, he stops and stares, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“You’re…” he trails off, shaking his head like he can’t find the words. “Marley, you look…”
“Is it too much?” I glance down at myself, second-guessing. “Maybe I should try something els—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out rough, almost harsh. “Don’t change a single thing.”
Beck’s camera is clicking away, but for once, I barely notice.
“You like it?” I ask.
Nitro’s hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone. “Like doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling right now.”
The air between us is charged, electric, scarily dangerous. We’re in the middle of a boutique with my brother photographing our every move and a sales associate watching with poorly concealed delight, but right now, none of that matters.
All that matters is the way Nitro is looking at me.
Like I’m the only person in the entire world.
Like I’m everything.
“This is the one,” I hear myself whisper.
“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse. “This is definitely the one.”
Beck materializes at my elbow, grinning as if he were the Cheshire cat. “I’m going to say this once,” he whispers loud enough for Nitro to hear. “You’re not faking it, are you?”
Nitro’s eyes never leave mine. “Shut up, kid.”
But he doesn’t deny it.
And I realize, with startling clarity, that I’m not faking it either.
“We’ll take it,” Nitro says to Simone, but his eyes never leave mine.
My heart does this weird stuttering thing. “Nitro, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” The certainty in his voice makes something in my chest tighten. “Consider it part of the fake -dating arrangement.”
Right.
Fake.
This is all fake.
So why does the way he’s looking at me feel so devastatingly real?
“Sure. Fake. That’s definitely what’s happening here.” Beck chuckles, and when I finally manage to tear my eyes away from Nitro, I catch the knowing smirk on my brother’s face.
Oh no. Beck sees it. Whatever this is between Nitro and me, Beck sees it, and I’m going to get interrogated to within an inch of my life the second we’re alone.
“Your brother’s a pain in the ass,” Nitro tells me, finally breaking eye contact to glare at Beck.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips, grateful for the moment to breathe. “He grows on you.”
“Like a fungus,” Beck agrees cheerfully, already heading for the door with his camera bag. “Now, who wants to grab dinner? I’m starving, and I have approximately four thousand questions about this motorcycle club situation that Marley conveniently forgot to mention until today.”
Oh God. “Beck, no!”
“Beck, yes!” He’s already heading for the door, leaving Nitro and me standing in the boutique like two people who desperately need a chaperone.
I turn to Nitro, apology written all over my face. “You don’t have to,” I say quietly. “If you want to head out, I totally understand. I know my brother can be a lot, and you’ve already done so much for me, and this wasn’t part of our deal—”
“I’m in.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“I said… I’m in.” His lips curve into this small smile that does dangerous things to my pulse. “But I’m picking the place. Beck looks like the kind of guy who’d choose somewhere with tiny portions and fancy names.”
“I absolutely am that guy!” Beck calls from the front of the shop.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m driving.” Nitro turns to me, offering his hand without seeming to think about it. “Come on, Small Town. Let’s go feed your brother before he wastes away.”
I stare at his outstretched hand for a heartbeat too long.
This is just part of the act.
We’re practicing being a couple and getting comfortable with casual touches.
That’s all this is.
I take his hand, and electricity shoots straight up my arm. His fingers lace through mine naturally, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before instead of never, and suddenly I can’t remember why I thought this was a good idea.
My hand fits perfectly in his. His palm is warm and rough with calluses, and the way his thumb automatically brushes against mine feels less like practice and more like something I could get dangerously addicted to.
You’re falling for him, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind.
I know! I respond silently.
I’m completely screwed.
But as Nitro squeezes my hand gently and smiles down at me, really smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes the corners crinkle, I realize something terrifying.
I don’t care that this is fake.
Some things feel real even when they are pretend.
Some moments matter even when they are part of an arrangement.
And Nitro, with his fierce protectiveness and the way he looks at me as if I’m worth something, might just be worth the risk of getting my heart broken all over again.
Even if he doesn’t mean any of it.
Even if I’m the only one falling…