by Erika Kelly
A bottle rocket of joy shot straight up her spine, lighting her up inside. “We’re doing this.” And it was only a small surprise that a good amount of her happiness came from the idea of working with him.
He lunged for her, lifting her off the ground and hugging her to him. For one heavenly moment, she gave him her weight, turned her head so she brushed her cheek against his scruff. But when his grip tightened, the energy between them changed. Turned sharp, electric, and hot. It scared her, so she pulled back.
He set her down, looking like he hadn’t noticed a thing. “Awesome. Because once I confirm, it’s on like Donkey Kong.”
Wind rushed over Gray’s face, stinging his eyes, as he slid down the slope at his brother’s training facility. As his speed picked up, he just knew. He didn’t think, didn’t plan. His body just went to work. Bending his knees, he sailed up the ramp and exploded off the lip.
Fuck, yeah. The boost gave him massive air. He pulled his board up, grabbed it, and held. Keeping his eyes on the airbag, he spun once…twice…spot it, spot it…and landed backwards, toe edge.
Stomped it.
“Holy shit,” someone shouted.
Breathing hard, Gray pumped his fist. Damn, that felt good.
As he flicked off the bindings and bounced his way to the edge of the bag, he tuned into the chatter from the onlookers gathered on the grass.
“Did he just do a double cork twelve-sixty?” someone said.
“Sure as hell did.”
“I thought he was just supposed to do a rodeo five-forty?”
“Fuckin’ Gray,” someone else said.
Fin rushed him. “Holy shit, man, that was perfect.”
“Thanks.” He needed to talk to his brother, and Fin wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Got a second?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
“I’m taking a couple days off.”
“Like hell you are. You just got back to town.”
“Yeah, I know. And I wouldn’t leave again if it weren’t important.”
“Dammit, Gray.”
“I need to fly out to LA with Knox and meet with the new supplier. She’s hired some sewers, bought some machines, and now we’ve got to get moving on the project. It’ll just be a few days.”
“It’s not like I can stop you.”
No, you can’t. “Two days max, okay?”
Fin nodded.
“Cool. I’m going to head back now.” He’d been at it three hours, done ten runs. Enough. Now, he just wanted to tell Knox the good news.
“Yeah, sure,” Fin sad. “You had a great day. See in the morning.”
Arms behind him, hugging his board to his lower back, he started off. Footsteps crunching on dry grass had him turning around to see Brodie catching up to him. “Hey.”
“That was some serious amplitude for an airbag,” his brother said.
“Yeah, I could feel it. That’s why I took my shot.” They walked in companionable silence. “You heading back to the ranch?”
“Mmhm.” His brother seemed distracted.
Of all the brothers, Brodie was by far the most intelligent. His brain was like an incubator for ideas, and when he latched onto one, he was off to the races. Which explained how he’d turned an old ghost town into a high-end resort in one year. Their dad had liked to call Brodie the visionary.
Will had been the captain, and Fin, the wild child.
Had his dad been aware he’d never given Gray a nickname? In his heart, Gray didn’t believe it had been intentional. It wasn’t like he’d ever questioned his dad’s love. He just didn’t think his dad saw him.
“How did Duck Dive start?” Brodie asked.
Ah. So that’s what’s on his mind. “So, you know how the more sidewall on your board, the deeper you carve?”
Brodie nodded.
“But the heavier the board, the worse it’ll perform aerodynamically, so we kept talking about it, trying to come up with ideas. What kind of material would enable us to get a thicker edge but not increase the weight? And then we talked to an engineer, who came up with something. Built it. Sold it. And that’s it. That’s how it started.”
Brodie had his head tucked down, watching his boots eat up the trail. “Would’ve liked to have been in on those conversations.”
“Would’ve liked to have you.”
Brodie’s gaze swung up, and in that moment something broke inside Gray.
He hadn’t paid attention to how much he’d wanted to include his brothers in the other aspects of his life in a very long time.
And it felt damn good that Brodie was in it now.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Just because they hadn’t been able to secure an appointment with the vendor yet didn’t mean Knox wouldn’t get the dresses done in time. As soon as she got the green light, she’d fly to Los Angeles, take a look at the fabric and embellishments and—fingers crossed—place her order. Everything would be fine.
It’ll be fine.
In the meantime, she’d get started on the custom gowns. While she brewed tea, Callie sat at the island, clicking through Knox’s inspiration file, a portfolio of every wedding gown that had caught Knox’s fancy over the years.
On the couch, Delilah had her feet up on the coffee table, bridal magazines scattered on the table and cushions around her. In her lap sat a local chef’s cookbook; her eyebrows were pulled tight in concentration as she read.
“What do you think of this one?” Callie leaned back.
Twisting around to see the computer screen, Delilah said, “That’s really pretty.”
“You don’t think that poofy skirt’s too much?”
Delilah set the book down and nearly tripped over the magazines that had toppled onto the floor. “It’s stunning, if you’re into the whole Cinderella ball gown thing.”
Callie laughed. “Okay, so maybe all those Disney movies did a subliminal number on me, because my heart does backflips when I see the princessy ones.” She cocked her head. “I just…I don’t think I like that neckline.”
Setting her elbows on the counter, Knox leaned in. “You realize you can have anything you want, right? You can pick and choose tops and bottoms, colors, design elements…the whole shebang is your invention.”
“I’m not sure I have that kind of vision,” Callie said.
Delilah nudged her. “You’re an artist. Of course you do.”
“Not when it comes to wedding dresses. I have no clue what would look good on me.”
Knox reached for her sketchbook and a pencil. “Let’s start with a ball gown.” She made broad, sweeping strokes. “How sexy do you want the bodice?” She reached for the laptop, opened a folder and clicked on a revealing top with sheer panels of lace covered in hand-embroidered petals. “Like this. Or…” She scrolled down the page to another style of top. “A sweetheart neckline.” She scrolled some more. “Or we can do an off-the-shoulder cap sleeve. This one’s more fairy princess.”
“Oh, wait, let me get my phone.” Delilah dashed to the couch and dug it out of her bag. “Amelia wants me to get some pictures. Can you lean in a little? Knox, point like you were doing before. Perfect.” She took a couple shots. “I’ll send these to her right now.”
Callie took over the mouse and contemplated the bodices. “I think I like the simpler, more elegant ones.”
Knox figured that. She sketched out a top she thought Callie would like, then turned the book toward her. “Something like this?”
“That’s really pretty.”
Knox found a similar style in her portfolio and then turned the screen back to Callie. “The dress will look something like this.”
Callie gasped. “Yes. Oh…” She blew out a breath. “Yes. Just like that.”
“As for bling,” Knox said. “We can embed tiny Swarovski crystals in the bodice to make it sparkle.”
“How lame am I to want the crystals?” Callie asked.
“All I can say is, if you’re drawn to ball gowns, then for on
e day out of your life, go all-out Cinderella. If that’s not your thing, you can wear a pantsuit. Delilah, you could rock the hell out of one. That’s the fun in what we’re doing. You can create anything you want. Whatever feels right for you.”
“I want Cinderella.” Callie said it quietly, almost shyly.
“Then, that’s what you’ll be,” Knox said.
“I just feel like…Fin makes me feel like a princess every day. I know that sounds sappy, but it’s true. And I guess I want to look like one when I walk down the aisle to meet him.”
“Why am I tearing up?” Delilah said. “Are there onions in here? Because I know I’m not crying over the idea of you marrying the love of your life.”
“Gray says you’ve been sketching fancy wedding gowns since you were a kid,” Callie said. “How did you even know about couture back then? Not to make fun of Calamity or anything, but it’s not exactly on the cutting edge of fashion.”
“Oh, I didn’t. Not when I first started.” Was she really going to open the vault for these women, when she’d only known them a few days? Looks like I am. “When I was a kid, I’d tell these stories in my head. I called them dream sets.” She watched to see if they’d think she was a freak but, really, they just seemed interested. “Each one would play out over a couple of weeks, before some character from a movie or a book or a TV show would trigger a new one.”
“Oh, my God, I had dream sets, too,” Callie said. “I didn’t call them that, but that’s a great name for them. Sadly, mine were about Fin. I’m not kidding. I’m that much of a cliché. I actually couldn’t wait to go to bed at night, because it meant I could slip back into my”—she cut a mischievous look to Knox—“dream set and continue the movie playing in my head about our love story.”
“I want to fit in here so bad,” Delilah said. “But I daydreamed about recipes. Not the same?” She looked between them. “No, I didn’t think so.”
All three laughed, until Callie nudged Knox. “Go on. I want to hear about your dream sets.”
“Well, not to sound too pathetic, but mine were about imaginary friends. It would be a group of us doing totally normal things—hanging out, sleepovers, getting ready for prom together—but it always led to one of the girls getting married. I kept a notebook with me everywhere—on my nightstand, in my backpack—so I could sketch the wedding gowns.”
“I love that,” Delilah said. “I’m not that excited about going into a store and buying a wedding gown, but the idea of my friend, who knows me, making one just for me—that fits not just my body but my personality…I like that.”
“I never got to do that, though,” Knox said. “As soon as I got to college, I got on the couture track. Which really just means I made sure all my internships were with the houses I wanted to work in. And that world…it’s not about an individual. A woman with a personality and a backstory. It’s about drama, flair. How different I can make each dress while staying within my brand.”
“You have a brand?” Callie asked. “But they all look so different.”
“My brand is…” She made air quotes. “’Extravagantly feminine, wildly unique, and lushly romantic.’”
“Oh, I see. Yes, that’s exactly it.” Callie patted Delilah’s shoulder. “Well, she’s certainly got the market on lushness. I don’t know why she won’t share some of it with the rest of us.”
Delilah rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds of lushness, because it’s harder than you think to find clothes that fit right. And, to be honest, that’s partly why I don’t get excited about wedding dresses. Buying clothes has always been such a chore. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen in love with something and then tried it on, only to find out I look horrible in it.”
“That’s the beauty of custom,” Knox said. “I’ll make one that fits you just right. It’ll feel like you’re wearing yoga pants and your favorite T-shirt. Okay, maybe not exactly like that.”
Delilah’s expression brightened. “Oh, I wish.”
“Besides, don’t you want something amazing when you walk down the aisle?” Callie asked. “Will’s going to be standing there in a tux, looking fine as wine, and he’s only going to have eyes for you. Imagine what you’ll be wearing.”
Delilah answered right away. “I want to look like me. I don’t want a ton of make-up or my hair done in some strange style and lacquered like a helmet.” She turned to Knox with her hands on her breasts. “I need something that won’t make me look like an exotic dancer.”
“Trust me, you’ve got a lot of options,” Knox said. “For the bodice, you’ll want to avoid high necklines and probably halters, but you could go with a sweetheart neckline, a V or scoop neck. For the skirt, A-lines are flattering on almost any figure. No empire. That’ll just make you look pregnant.”
“I guess I imagined something really structured, you know? To hold the girls in. I didn’t think I could have anything as wispy and feminine as those.” She gestured to the dress forms.
Now, Knox totally got Delilah’s reluctance. “You can have anything you want. Literally anything. We can work with a strapless bra or put in boning. You don’t worry about that. Just show me what you love, and I’ll make it fit, so you don’t worry for a single moment the entire time you’re wearing it.” She reached for the laptop and found the dress she thought might work for the hour glass-shaped blonde. “Does it matter to you if it’s white?”
“Not at all.”
“Then look at this one.”
It looked deceptively like a plunging V-neck, but covering the cleavage was a transparent silk tulle in the palest pink. Hand-embroidered flower petals in white adorned the organza bodice. The back, though, that was one of her favorites of all time. It had four pink organza flowers surrounding the keyhole cut-out.
“That is stunning,” Callie said.
“It is.” Delilah didn’t sound as effusive.
And Knox thought she knew why. She suspected Delilah didn’t trust that she’d come out looking like anything other than a Vegas showgirl. “Only, we’d do this.” She turned to a fresh page in the sketchbook and started drawing. “To keep from popping out.” When she finished, she turned the book to Delilah.
“You think I could really look good in that?”
“I know you can. But you don’t have to worry, because I’m going to make a mock-up, which is made from muslin and lets me fit you in the dress before I cut the actual fabric.” She looked from one to the other. “Sound good?”
“Oh, yes,” Callie said. “I completely love mine. Make my muslin.”
Delilah seemed more hesitant.
“Even after I cut the material,” Knox said. “We can keep playing with ideas.”
“I want to play with mine a little,” Delilah said. “But that’s really close.” She gestured to the dress on the screen.
“No problem at all.”
Callie closed the laptop. “Let’s get some lunch. I’m starving.”
Dread smacked her right in the gut. Knox didn’t want to run into anyone who’d once barked at her—not in front of these beautiful, confident women.
But then anger rolled in, knocking her fear right on its ass. If they barked at her today, as twenty-five-year-old adults, then they were immature idiots who hadn’t moved on from high school.
Besides, if she planned on staying in town a while, she couldn’t hide out in the bunkhouse. She walked with them to the door, each step bringing the image of downtown Calamity into sharper focus, as if seeing it from the perspective of a drone. An aerial view of the town green, narrowing down to the antler arches at each gateway, the crowds of people roaming, listening to live music in the gazebo…until it zeroed in on individual faces.
Cady Toller. Melissa Singer. Danny Mortimer. Her heart pounded and her palms grew damp.
After the women walked out the door, she said, “You know what? I’ve got so much work to do. You guys go on.”
Chicken.
Relieved not to find any trucks pa
rked in front of the bunkhouse, Gray knocked on the door. Except…he didn’t have to sneak around, did he? They worked together. And she’s single.
All those years of wanting his best friend’s girlfriend, he’d hated himself. Worked hard to conceal it. It was only after he’d gotten suspended for shutting down some of her bullies, that his dad had gotten involved. They’d taken a long hike—one of the rare occasions they’d spent time alone together—and, over the course of the day, his dad had coaxed the confession out of him: he kept getting into fights over Knox Holliday because he loved her. And he couldn’t stand to see her hurt.
He’d never forget the relief he’d felt at finally saying it out loud, in confiding his deepest, darkest secret. Only, his dad had been pissed. Delivering a blistering lecture on loyalty—as if Gray hadn’t been struggling with that issue all along—his dad had insisted he stay away from Robert and Knox, since any time spent alone with her was a betrayal to his oldest friend.
Gray had tried—of course he had—but he could no sooner breathe without lungs than live in a world without Knox. He’d never talked about her again, though, and his dad had never asked.
He knocked again and, when he still got no answer, he opened the door and peered in. “Knox?” A cool breeze rushed in from the open French doors that led to the patio. It lifted the skirts of the frilly gowns and riffled the pages of a notebook laid out on the kitchen counter.
Less than two weeks ago, this place had smelled like gym shoes and roasted meat, but now, with Knox living here, it smelled like the pine and sage of the outdoors mingling with the warm bread and fresh flowers inside.
The work stations they’d set up sat abandoned, and Gray knew she had to be freaking out. But he’d fixed the problem and couldn’t wait to tell her. “Anybody here?” He raised his voice in case she was coming out of the shower or something. “Knox? It’s Gray. I’m coming in.”
As he neared the French doors, he heard huffs of breath and a shushing, tapping sound. “Knox?” He nearly shouted this time, not wanting to startle her. Was she exercising?
