She’s gorgeous.
Her hair is lightly curled, her makeup accentuates the green in her eyes, and her lips are bright red. The sleeveless black cocktail dress she’s wearing hugs her waist and breasts, while the flowy skirt hits just above her knees. It has a deep V neckline that gives me a perfect view of her cleavage. The black four-inch heels show off her long, sexy legs.
Her eyes grow wide. “This is Molly’s dress, and I knew I shouldn’t wear it. I can change.”
“Mary,” I say breathlessly. “You’re beautiful.”
The panic begins to drain from her face. “My sisters had an intervention. They stole all my dresses and only left this and one other.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. “What does the other one look like?”
Her cheeks flush. “No comment.” Then she looks startled and says, “I’m sorry. You’re still standing on the porch. Come inside.”
I follow her inside and shut the door behind me.
“Did Aidan get off to his grandparents okay?” I know he was reluctant to go, worried we’d have fun without him.
“It took a bit of persuasion, but when I reminded him I’d be at the dance studio this morning, he was more open to it.”
“And how are the lessons going? Did Monica stop falling every time she makes a jump?”
Happiness flashes in her eyes. “Yes, although it took half the lesson. I love going to the studio. Molly is very pleased with herself for suggesting the place. You know, Cal’s starting to feel a little threatened by how much Aidan talks about you.”
I laugh. “He’s got nothing to worry about.”
“So…” She gives me a direct look. “When exactly does Cal plan on unveiling his surprise for Molly?”
I give her a smile. “No comment.”
She didn’t ask about the nature of the surprise, I notice, but she’s a smart woman—she’s probably figured it out. There are only so many presents that would require the help of an underemployed construction worker.
“I suppose that’s fair,” she says, but she still frowns.
“So have you heard where the wedding is yet?”
“No.” She drifts to the sofa and starts to sit down before stopping herself and heading toward the fireplace, giving me a glimpse of the lace back of her dress. I can see her skin through the design, and there’s no evidence of a bra.
Is Mary braless?
That seems so unlike her, but there’s no way she’s wearing a bra with that back.
Fuck.
I need to take my mind off the fact that there’s only a thin slip of fabric covering her breasts, but the new thought that pops into my head isn’t any safer.
Is she wearing panties?
Of course she is. She wouldn’t be standing in front of me completely commando, would she?
“Did you ever figure out a gift for them?” I ask in a choked voice. When we last spoke about the wedding, she still hadn’t figured out what to get the bride and groom.
She gestures toward a square box wrapped in white paper and tied with a fluffy bow on the kitchen table. “I did. I was dying to ask Molly and Cal for help, but Nicole wanted me to keep it a secret. I have no idea whether she’ll like it.”
“So, what did you get?”
She flushes a little. “I did some research before I got my vibrator. I got her one I thought she might like, from a company owned and operated by women.”
I burst out laughing.
A sheepish look washes over Mary’s face. “She seems like the kind of woman who has a collection of them.”
Her phone dings in her hand, and she jumps. “Sorry,” she says, then checks her phone screen. Her brow furrows. “She sent an address. Nothing else.”
“What is it?” I close the distance between us and examine the address on her phone. “That’s across the highway from my place. If it’s on that part of Haywood Road, I doubt it’s a church.”
Mary chuckles. “Nicole would only get married in a church if she and Damien dressed as vampires.” Her eyes fly wide as she looks up at me. “Oh. God. Do you think she would?” She presses a hand to her face. “She would. That’s exactly the kind of thing she would do. Especially to shock me.” She inhales a deep breath. “Oh, God. How incredibly narcissistic of me. Even Nicole wouldn’t plan her wedding just to shock me.” Dread comes into her eyes. “Only that’s exactly the kind of thing she would do.
I grasp her upper arms and squeeze lightly. “Take a deep breath. From what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire ceremony was planned to shock you, but that’s okay. If that’s what makes her happy, good for her. Besides, just think of the story you’ll be able to tell your sisters.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t care,” she says, her gaze on my tie. “It’s not my wedding.”
“You don’t seem like the vampire-bride type,” I tease.
Her eyes lift to mine, a smile tugging at her lips. “You sure about that?”
It takes everything in me not to kiss her. She looks so sweet and beautiful, and I realize I don’t want her just for sex, but because I want to see where this goes. I want to possibly build a life with her and Aidan. Maybe even have more kids.
The realization hits me center mass. I’ve known this woman for all of three weeks. It’s too soon to be having those thoughts. Hell, she doesn’t even want a relationship with me, or at least she didn’t in the beginning.
Except things between us have changed. If we start something again, it won’t be as friends with benefits. I can see it in her eyes as she stares up at me with longing. I could hear it when she told me, I need time. Mary’s not a fling kind of woman. She wants a white picket fence and a manicured lawn.
And a respectable man. Not an ex-con.
“We should go,” I say, dropping my hands to my sides. “It won’t take us long to get there, but in case we have trouble figuring out where to go…”
Mary blinks, seeming to awaken from her trance. “Yes. Of course.”
“Do you have a coat?”
She grimaces and picks up a black, fuzzy-looking rectangle and starts to wrap it around her shoulders. “Molly.”
Undoubtedly, I need to send Molly a gift basket for making sure Mary looks so amazing. If only Mary realized it too.
I take the wrap from her, then weave my fingers through hers and lead her into Aidan’s bathroom, flicking on the light.
“What are you doing?” she protests but doesn’t try to flee.
“Look at yourself, Mary.”
Her gaze lifts to the mirror. “Okay. Now what?”
“No. Really look at yourself. Do you even realize how sexy you are, Mary O’Shea?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she forces out, dropping her gaze.
Without thinking, I reach for her chin and gently lift her head. “Mary,” I murmur. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”
“How do you see me?” she whispers.
“Do you really want me to tell you?” I whisper back, my dick growing hard. “Because you asked me for more time, and if I go there, I’m not holding back.”
“Tell me,” she says, fire dancing in her eyes while her back sinks into my chest.
“I see your long, sexy neck, and I want to brush my lips against your skin to feel your pulse quicken.”
Her breath hitches.
I release her chin, then let my fingertips trail down her neck to her chest, brushing lightly between her cleavage. “My eyes are drawn here, and I wonder if you’re wearing a bra. Are you wearing a bra, Mary?”
Her lips part, and when she doesn’t answer, I slide my hand over to lightly cup her breast, letting my thumb brush over her nipple.
She’s not.
“The dress…” she says with a gasp. “It has built-in support.”
I swallow a moan and stop myself from sliding the fabric to the side so I can see her. Taste her.
Jesus. What the fuck am I doing?
I drop my hand and take a step back. “I’m
sorry.”
Her gaze lifts to mine in the mirror. “No,” she says softly. “Please don’t say that.”
Does this mean she wants more? Does she like skirting the edge? Maybe she wants to be wooed, just like Mrs. Rosa suggested.
“We should go,” she says, her lips flattening with an apologetic look.
Gently, I turn her to face me, then drape the wrap around her shoulders and fasten the clasp in the front. “I was out of line.”
She slowly shakes her head. “You make me feel things, Jace. Things I’ve never felt before.”
I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. I’m not sure what to say, let alone what I should say. It’s possible I should discourage this, but selfishly, I don’t want to. “Let’s go watch a vampire wedding, but fair warning, if anyone tries to bite either of us, we’re out of there.”
Her eyes light up. “Deal.”
I offer to drive us in her much nicer, newer car, but she insists the truck is fine. She’s wearing a fancy dress, and I feel an uncomfortable prickle as I help her climb into my shit truck, but she tells me we don’t have time to argue. I give in.
During the short drive, she tells me more about the children’s dance class earlier. The owner worked with her for a few minutes beforehand, offering critique to help her brush up her skills.
I can hear the pride in Mary’s voice when she says, “Anette thinks I’ve retained my form remarkably well for not having danced for so many years.”
“That’s because you’re a natural,” I say, keeping my hands on the steering wheel. Otherwise, I’ll be groping her. “I’m happy it went so well.”
“You don’t think it’s crazy that I’m taking up something like this again after all these years?”
“There’s nothing crazy about doing what you love.” I shoot her a playful grin. “Although I might have to intervene if you start a porcelain doll collection.”
She bursts out laughing. “No worries there.”
“Then dance your heart out,” I say. “And if you have a recital, I’ll be first in line to buy tickets.” Glancing over at her, I see the amazement on her face. I don’t need to ask the reason for it, and I’m already tightening my hands around the wheel, wishing it were his neck. “Glenn is an asshole, Mary. You need to forget everything that man said or did.”
She makes a face. “About Glenn…” She trails off midway through the sentence, as I’m slowing the car, and turns to glance out the window. “What? No…”
I take a good look at the building we’re approaching, then erupt with laughter. “I’ve heard of this place. One of the guys I used to work with got married here, although I wasn’t invited to the wedding.”
A sign in the window reads, Fleetwood’s Rock-n-Roll Wedding Chapel, Bar, and Vintage Shop. The other window has a painted cupid and the words, Shop, Drink, Get Married.
A car honks behind me, and I speed up, cross the bridge over the highway and turn onto a side street, looking for a parking space.
Mary clutches my arm in panic. “She can’t get married here.”
“But she is,” I say, seeing an opening on the street ahead, and pull into the space. It’s nearly a miracle to find street parking in this area at this hour. “And we’re her witnesses.”
“That place is a joke,” she protests.
“Maybe so,” I say, putting the truck into park. Leaving the engine running, I turn to face her. “But they still perform perfectly legal weddings.”
“But…” Her protest dies before she releases it.
I place a hand on her bare arm and let my fingers stroke her silky skin. “Where did you get married?”
“This isn’t about me,” she says indignantly.
“Only, I think it sort of is,” I say, at the risk of pissing her off.
“How can you say that?”
“You got married in a church, didn’t you? With flowers and a white dress, and I bet you even had a live band at the reception.”
“So?”
“We both know how that turned out. So obviously, the site of the ceremony doesn’t make a difference,” I say softly. “It’s about picking the person you want to commit your life to, not how much it cost or where it was held. It’s about pledging to love and honor someone until death do you part, and taking those vows seriously. Except Glenn tricked you into believing he meant his vows.”
Her eyes well with tears.
“Don’t cry, Mary. And don’t blame yourself. You’ll just choose a better man next time.”
She lifts a hand to dab her eyes. “So you don’t think Nicole is making a mistake?”
“She sounds loonier than a unicyclist on a pit of flaming coals, so there’s every chance she’s not making this decision with a sound mind, but it’s her life. Her mistakes.” I grin. “She just wants you to be here to witness them.”
She laughs, but it’s tight and guarded. “True.”
“So let’s go in there and enjoy every crazy minute of this disaster. I’ve got five bucks on the vampire theme.”
She laughs again, more herself. “I’ll take that bet.”
“Wait here.” After turning off the engine, I get out and come around to help her out. I wrap an arm around her as we walk up to Haywood, cross the bridge, and pass the red vintage car parked in front of the venue. It looks like a hearse, which is encouraging for my bet, but I decide not to mention it for fear it would send Mary into a spiral.
A couple is waiting by the door, an irritated-looking woman in a blond wig, wearing a prim cheerleading outfit with a red collar, and a tall and dark-haired man dressed all in black, with a black leather jacket topping off the look. It’s not exactly wedding attire, and if they’re the happy couple, we’re profoundly overdressed.
“Is that Nicole?” I ask in an undertone. “She looks pissed. Or constipated. Maybe both.”
“She always looks like that,” Mary says dismissively. “But what’s she wearing?”
Nicole gives us a once over and makes a gagging noise. “You’re twenty seconds late.” She turns to me. “You must be the hot guy who finally got her to come.”
“Nicole!” Mary chastises.
“Stop making a big deal of it,” Nicole retorts. “You should be making a bigger deal about the fact that Pencil Dick couldn’t get the job done.” She sneers as she takes in Mary’s dress. “I knew you’d overthink what to wear. Good thing this place has a shop.”
“What?” Mary chokes out.
“There’s no way I’m letting either of you wear that to my wedding. You look like you’re going to a royal wedding, for fuck’s sake. Good thing I’ve already picked something out for you.” She promptly grabs Mary’s arm and drags her through the door.
Her groom starts to follow, then turns to me and offers a hand. “I’m Damien.”
“Jace,” I reply, shaking his hand.
“The magic orgasm man,” he says with a smirk. “Or so I’ve heard.”
I shrug. I’ve been called worse.
No, my biggest worries are what Nicole is going to make us change into and that I won’t be the one helping Mary undress. It would be a crime to strip that dress off Mary for any reason other than to let me earn my new title.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mary
“You should have worn some pearls you could clutch,” Nicole says with a feral smile. “It would really complete the look I have in mind.”
“Why are you dressed like that, anyway?” I ask. Suspicion sets in. “Are you making fun of me because I told you that I was a cheerleader for two weeks my junior year?”
I’d quit because the uniforms were only dry-cleaned once a month, and the coach refused to let me take mine off school property so I could wash it myself. I’m not even sure why I told her that, but my relationship with Nicole has been like that from the very beginning. Something about her opens the floodgates.
She lifts her brows and pauses in sifting through a rack of clothes. “You honestly think I’d dress like a prudish cheerleader be
cause you were one for two weeks in high school?”
“I mean…” There’s a twitch of amusement to her mouth, so I add in a stronger voice, “Did you?”
“No, I have bigger plans.” She keeps sifting purposefully, looking for whatever horror show she selected for me.
This place is proudly peculiar. There’s an old white Christmas tree in the corner decorated with a disturbing mix of ornaments, including the heads of baby dolls. And the velvet. Everywhere I look there’s old velvet, like in a grandparents’ basement, and the clothes are a strange mix of styles that have gone out and, according to Nicole, come back. I’ll have to trust her on that, since there’s no question, she’s hipper than I’ll ever be. There are sequins. High-neck dresses. Hammer pants. Oh no. Surely she wouldn’t ask me to wear hammer pants around Jace.
Speaking of…
I glance around and find him and Damien standing at a rack across from us, murmuring about something. Jace shrugs as Damien hands him an all-black outfit. Part of me regrets that he’ll be taking off the suit. He may be uncomfortable in it—I can tell from the way he keeps fidgeting with the collar—but he looks sexy as hell. Still, in all black, with a leather jacket slung over his shoulders…
I have to fan myself at the mental image. Then Nicole gives a cackle of victory and pulls out a poodle skirt—a literal poodle skirt—and a pink blouse.
“Ugh. Really?”
“Oh, yes,” she says. “We paid for the outfits already to guilt you into wearing them.”
“How’d you know my size?”
“I looked through your things.”
I could act pissed, but I’m not exactly surprised. “How’d you know Jace’s size?”
She purses her lips. “It’s best if you don’t know.”
I have half a mind to tell her I’m not changing. Doesn’t she want me to stand up to her? Isn’t that what this whole Bad Luck Club thing is all about?
She’d probably be pleased to discover I have a backbone. Only Jace was right. This wedding might be the exact opposite of what I’d want, but if playing dress-up in weird vintage ’50s clothes is her kink for the night, who am I to tell her no? This place certainly suits her better than a church would.
Jingle Bell Hell (Bad Luck Club) Page 26
