41. Paige
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Paige
My breath racing after walking the entire Main Street, I reach the only wedding salon in Fig Bay. The shop is the size of my living room, so it’s easy to find Jordan, Emma, and Kim perusing the racks. All heads turn toward me.
“S-sorry for being late.” I’m only three minutes late, but it seems like these women mean business.
Kim’s face transforms into an honest smile. Her gray hair is pulled together into a low bun. In tan wide-legged pants and a jean blouse, she reaches me in three steps before pulling me into a hug. Once again, her hug is warm and inviting, and I quickly relax into it.
“I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Of course.” My eyes meet Jordan’s, and I notice she’s different, too. I was worried about how she would react, but it’s nice to see she’s slowly warming up to Kim.
“This is my sister, Brenda.” Kim introduces me to an unfamiliar woman. She’s around Kim’s age, but her hair is sprinkled with lighter and darker blonde highlights. She sports a loose navy dress and a pearl necklace.
Brenda shakes my hand with an honest smile. “Nice to meet you, Paige. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
An image of what I did with her nephew just a few hours ago appears in my mind, and my chest blotches with red spots. “You, too,” I respond, hoping my embarrassment isn’t obvious.
Brenda turns to her sister. “So, did you figure out where Ryan was last night?”
Shit.
Kim throws me a sheepish glance before focusing back on her sister. “No. He just told me he wasn’t coming home. He’s an adult, he doesn’t have to answer to me anymore, but I still appreciate not having to worry.”
“That’s nice. But you don’t know if he’s dating someone? Or if it’s serious? What if he wants to invite her to the wedding?” Brenda doubles down.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Another glance in my direction. “I wouldn’t be too worried about that.”
She knows. She definitely knows. My insides scream at me, begging the ground to swallow me whole, while I plaster a poker face, hoping I don’t look like a haunted porcelain doll.
“This would look beautiful on you, Kim,” Emma’s excited voice breaks my moment of panic, and I’m eternally grateful to her.
All of us turn to the hundreds of dresses in different shades of white.
The wedding is close, but I guess Dad offered them enough money for the dress to be ready on time.
We search the racks, placing the dresses we like to the side.
I go through them, barely aware, my mind stuck in the events of last night.
It’s ironic, really. I’m flustered spending time with a woman whose son thoroughly fucked me mere hours ago, and to deal with that, my brain keeps replaying everything that happened.
Every touch, every word, every orgasm. God, there were so many orgasms.
“What do you think of this one?” A voice next to me says, startling me. It’s Kim, showing me a modest ivory dress with lace trimmings.
I clear my throat before speaking. “It looks lovely.”
“They’re all just so white…” she comments, tilting her head.
“Would you prefer a different color?” Emma appears next to us, ready to save the day.
“I don’t know. I like them, but I feel silly wearing a white dress at my age.”
A hint of insecurity laces her voice, and my shoulders drop with compassion. We really were assholes toward her, weren’t we?
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kim. You should wear whatever you like.” Brenda steps in.
“What does your age have to do with anything? You’re getting married and brides typically wear white dresses for weddings,” my sister adds, surprising me.
Kim’s face transforms with a smile, making my chest expand.
Brenda casts an approving look at Jordan.
This is the type of person Jordan is: loyal to the bone and ready to defend you against anyone, even yourself.
She just sometimes has a hard time showing it when she buries her feelings underneath the memories of hurt.
“She’s right,” I say. “You should try it.”
The rest of the dress shopping is much more relaxed.
I finally get out of my head and focus on the task at hand.
The bridal consultant places the chosen dresses into the spacious changing room and helps Kim into the first one.
With the store being a small family-owned shop in Fig Bay, not a fancy store on Fifth Avenue, we don’t get champagne, but we still clap and squeal as Kim models dress after dress.
She looks beautiful and elegant in every single one, and emotion builds up in my eyes.
She barely knows Jordan, Emma, and me, but she was certain she wanted us to be a part of this process.
With all of our dad’s weddings, Jordan and I have never gone wedding dress shopping.
Our role was to blend into the background as meaningless extras, not stand out as daughters of the groom.
This feels different. Kim feels different.
In a way, knowing the kind of person she is affects my opinion of Ryan, too.
It’s hard to imagine him being calculated or abusive when he was raised by the amazing woman in front of me.
The entire thought process makes the task of keeping my walls up that much harder.
I’m not even sure if I have any walls left by now.
I’ve let him into my body, I’ve let him into my home, I’ve let him into my mind, and I’m pretty certain I’ve let him into my heart.
Just the thought of him mowing the lawn under Linda’s strict surveillance pulls a grin to my lips, and I roll them in an attempt to not get questions from the others. Luckily, a loud sigh fills the room as Kim exits the changing room.
“This is the one,” Brenda states with absolute certainty, while Emma lets out a squeal.
“Really?” Kim asks, her voice growing shy.
Her sister is absolutely right. The floor length pearl white dress looks gorgeous on her.
The color compliments her hair, while the satin material flows over her curves in just the right way to accentuate her figure, while not showing too much.
The off-the-shoulder neckline is perfect for a statement necklace, one I’m sure Dad will gladly buy her, and the train is short enough not to get in the way, but long enough to make this dress a truly stunning piece.
“How do you girls like it?”
My throat constricts as I watch her twirl in front of the mirror. “It’s perfect.”
“I agree,” Jordan adds, wrapping her hand around mine. It’s a small, unnoticeable motion, but it holds more meaning than anyone else in this room could understand. Maybe this time it will be different.
Hope blooms at the base of my spine, before spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. My chest fills with air, and I squeeze Jordan’s hand back, letting her know that I got her message.
I’m still a mess of emotions when I park in my driveway. There’s something about wedding dress shopping that pulls on everyone’s heartstrings, but this was even more special.
There’s a car parked in front of Linda’s, which I pay no attention to, getting into my house.
I expect Ryan to be long gone, which is why I startle, a gasp escaping me when the sound of a lawnmower reaches me from my backyard.
I rush to the back and find Ryan mowing my lawn.
Shirtless. My eyes trail over him lazily, unwilling to break the moment.
They travel his strong biceps pushing the lawnmower, his bulging pecs and those mouthwatering abs.
When they finally lift back up to his face, I realize he’s staring at me with a smirk on his lips.
“Like what you see?” he yells over the sound of the mower.
“I just hadn’t expected you here,” I respond, approaching him.
“After I finished Linda’s lawn, she mentioned yours isn’t looking any better.”
“Erm, yeah. My lawnmower broke. I was meaning to replace it but haven’t gotten around to it.”
“That’s okay. Linda let me use hers.” He winks.
“But you’ve been here for hours. You must be starving.” I check the clock on my phone to confirm my suspicions.
“Don’t worry. Linda took great care of me.”
Like he summoned her, my neighbor comes out, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade along with some glasses. “Ryan, dear… Oh, Paige, you’re back. I’ll bring another glass.” She places the tray onto the small table on her back porch and heads back inside.
“She almost seems disappointed to see me return,” I mumble, making Ryan laugh.
“She prefers having me all to herself.”
My gaze returns to the muscular planes of his chest. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Linda pours us each a glass of lemonade, all while questioning us.
We zig and zag, trying to avoid any landmines, but she’s too skilled to let us bypass her interrogation.
By the time she’s done, she knows pretty much everything.
She knows about his big-city job and how he left it.
She knows about him being my delivery driver, but doesn’t find out about the sex toys, thank God.
Her hand lands on her chest when she finds out our parents are getting married.
“It must be destiny,” she says with a dreamy voice.
I turn to Ryan to roll my eyes, but he gives me another wink. His shirt is now draped over his shoulder messily, his cap placed backwards on his head, and my heart does a little leap inside my chest.
Placing her hands on her knees, Linda rises from her Adirondack chair. “Well, I would love to stay and chitchat, but the house won’t take care of itself.”
“Bye, Linda. Thank you for feeding me,” Ryan tells her, making her blush.
She waves him off sheepishly, collects the lemonade glasses and enters her house.
“She might have a point,” he says. “Better get back to work.”
“You know there’s no need for you to do that? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself,” I respond.
“I don’t doubt it for a second. But I’m still going to do it. You sit back and enjoy the view.”
A girlish giggle fights to escape, but I shove it back into my throat. “If you insist… I’ll go do some work inside.”
Ryan tips his hat to me, looking ridiculously hot, and I scatter back inside. My skin itches, feeling his gaze on me. Entering the house, I finally release a breath that was trapped in my lungs.
My weight shifts from foot to foot, needing to keep busy.
My gaze connects to my collection of plants, and I decide it’s as good a time as any for their weekly shower.
Pot after pot, I bring them to the bathroom.
I keep sneaking glances at the attractive man in my backyard as my skin builds up a sweat and my breath quickens.
When was the last time I exercised? Maybe I should go for a run with Emma? She keeps asking me, but I keep saying no.
Why am I even considering this? Running is hardly a thing I like to do. But my body is full of restless energy, and a jog suddenly seems like a great idea.
Filling my shower to the brim, I turn the faucet to cold and turn the water on.
My lips form a smile. My plants love this shit.
They also look beautiful after it, and I just know they feel beautiful, too.
Some might find it weird thinking about plants’ feelings, but that’s who I am.
After a nice, long shower, I leave them to drain, dry my hands and return to the kitchen.
Just as I do, Ryan enters through the back door. His skin glows with the newly earned tan, and I bite my bottom lip to keep my tongue from falling out of my mouth. He licks his lips when he notices me, pulling the cap off his head. His hair is thick and unruly, damp with sweat.
“The lawn’s done, Ma’am,” he says, smirking.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Please check to see if you’re satisfied with my work.”
It takes me a moment to realize he’s messing with me, but I still make my way to the wall of windows, as if I’m checking the yard. “It’s great.”
“Just great?” I feel his breath on my neck as he approaches me, the heat of his body heating my skin.
“It’s pretty good,” I say, my voice now breathy.
“That doesn’t sound too good.” He almost sounds disappointed. “I aim to please.” His words are a whisper under my ear before he nips it with his teeth.
I release a shudder.
“If the lawn isn’t up to your standards, I’ll need to find another way to please you.”
His voice prickles my skin, pebbling the sensitive tips of my breasts. He takes a step closer to me, and I feel his chest rubbing against my back.
“You’re dirty.” There’s no conviction in my words.
“Oh, Paige, darling. I think you’re forgetting dirty is just how you like it.”
He presses his mouth to my skin, and I let out a moan.
He sucks and nibbles on my neck, pulling me back to feel the stiff ridge of his cock.
Then he turns me around, snaking his hands into my hair and kissing me deeply, passionately.
We’re a mess of tongues and limbs as he devours my mouth and I jump up to wrap my ankles behind his back.
We don’t emerge from my bedroom until it’s dark out, when I make us dinner, once again needing to busy myself.
I don’t know what to do with all these butterflies wreaking havoc on my stomach.
I feel giddy one second and sick the other.
My mind’s a mess, and my body craves to be near this man twenty-four seven.
Textbook infatuation.
If I were braver, I might have used a different word, but that word seems far too dangerous.
Even though I feel safest in his arms. Even though my heart pumps just a little harder, and my lungs expand with elation every time he’s around.
Even though my brain can’t stop imagining him in every single scenario of my future.
“This is great, thank you.” Ryan wipes his mouth after swallowing a bite of food.
“Don’t thank me. You did way more than I did today.” My gaze is firmly planted on my plate.
“Paige…” His hand reaches mine, forcing me to look up at him. “I like doing things for you. And I like spending time with you.”
My throat constricts. “I like spending time with you, too.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty good deal, then.” His warm, honest smile makes me blurt out my next words.
“Do you want to spend next weekend with me?” My gaze drops, and I feel stupid.
Why is it so hard to put myself out there? Well, I know why, but he just told me he likes spending time with me. Why does it feel ridiculous to ask for exactly that?
Once I finally look up at him, I notice his mouth dropping. “Sorry, I already have plans. Maybe the weekend after?”
I clear my throat. “The wedding’s then.” I plaster on a smile to hide my disappointment.
Once again, my feelings are stupid. Irrational.
But it took guts to ask him, and it hurts to be shut down.
I also don’t like the fact that he hasn’t told me why he can’t see me this weekend, yet I hardly have a right to ask.
It reminds me of all the instances when Bradley smoothly avoided answering my questions, and I hadn’t even noticed it.
“That’s right. Whew, that came super fast. How was wedding dress shopping?”
I tell him all about it, while keeping the details of the dress she chose vague, but the butterflies in my stomach are a little less enthusiastic. Just a little more apprehensive.