by Mara Wells
Sydney sighed dramatically. “My Chewy, the love of my life, is in big trouble. He ate my Dolce & Gabbana sneakers. Both of them.” Sydney held a hand to her heart. “What am I going to do with that little monster?”
“Spoil him? Not leave shoes on the floor?” Danielle’s head finally stopped nod-bobbing now that they were on the safe subject of dog behavior. Her manners kicked in, and she gestured at Sydney’s bags. “Need any help?”
“Please, that would be wonderful.” Sydney hefted a canvas tote in one hand. “Give me a second, and I’ll get the champagne punch set up. It’s a family recipe.” She winked at Danielle. “Not my family. They’re useless when it comes to recipes. I found it online. Still, it’s going to be yummy. Come with me. I’ve been researching a bunch of animal rescues, checking out their online presences, and I have a ton of questions for you.”
“Sure. What do you need to know?” Danielle followed Sydney to the refreshment table set up near the mailboxes at the back of the lobby. Sydney asked so many questions about Homestretch that Danielle barely had time to answer one before the next one landed. In no time, they’d assembled the punch, complete with fresh fruit floating in a lemon-lime soda and champagne mixture.
Sydney poured two cups and handed one to Danielle. “To the amazing YouTube channel I’m going to help you set up for Homestretch so we can find those puppies their forever homes.”
“Thank you.” Danielle tilted her cup toward Sydney and took a sip. Her eyes widened. “This is delicious.”
“Told you.” Sydney used the punch-bowl ladle to fill a line of glasses. “Let’s get these to the troops ASAP. Riley’s going to need a lot of booze when she finds out all the games Carrie and I have planned for this afternoon.”
“Games?” Danielle’s throat was suddenly so dry it took two long pulls of punch before she could talk again. “Like Bunco or something?” Grams often talked about her Bunco group while waiting with her cat to see Dr. Morrow at the clinic.
“Bridal shower games.” Sydney’s laugh was evil sounding enough to classify as a cackle.
“I’ve never—”
“Bridal shower virgin?” Sydney clapped her hands together. “This day gets better and better. Don’t worry, Danielle. I’ve got your back.”
Chapter 23
Danielle wasn’t sure how it happened or how exactly her current predicament counted as Sydney having her back, but it was many glasses of champagne punch later, and Danielle hobbled down the makeshift runway in her wedding gown.
Wedding gown in a very loose sense of the words because it was made out of toilet paper. Hobbled because the skirt—constructed by wrapping toilet paper around her legs in a binding tight enough that she could only move a few inches at a time—ripped a tiny bit with every step. If it ripped all the way up the leg, Danielle would be parading down the runway in her underwear and bra. How exactly had she ended up as the model again?
“I love it!” Riley stood at the end of the runway, a score sheet in her hand. Grams was the other judge. Two weddings in the near future equaled two brides-to-be. “Very elegant.”
Compared to the first wedding dress to come down the aisle, a risqué number that Carrie and her mother had called “worthy of Cher,” Danielle supposed hers was elegant. Sydney and Eliza had been the designers of her mermaid-inspired style. Toilet paper crisscrossed her breasts then wrapped around her hips, leaving a small swath of belly exposed. Toilet paper also wrapped around her arms, down to her wrists, and plunged down her back, stopping just above the bra strap. Danielle had never worn anything like it—not in real fabric or toilet paper—and she was no fashion model, but she did feel a tiny bit sexy in the concoction.
Wedding gown number three made Patty, who slowly made her way down the runway with her walker, look more like a mummy than a bride. Kiki and Paula, the designers, cheered Patty when she executed a twirl inside the confines of the walker. When Patty reached the judges, there was applause for all three dresses, and then Sydney declared, “Fashion shoot,” and before Danielle knew what was happening, cameras were out and this weird-ass afternoon was immortalized for the ages.
“I knew we shouldn’t have left you ladies alone for so long.” Caleb didn’t even try to hide the laughter in his voice. Danielle’s hand automatically went to hide the swath of stomach revealed by her toilet-paper dress, but Caleb’s eyes were only for Riley. He strode toward her from the direction of their apartment down the hall, LouLou the poodle trotting beside him in a high-stepping prance.
“You’re not supposed to be here at all.” Riley lifted her face for his kiss.
“I couldn’t stay away.” He dipped down to brush his lips across hers, then pulled away with a smile. “Or rather, LouLou couldn’t stay away. From the dog park. You know how she gets.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed, but her matching smile belied her attempts to look annoyed. “Admit you were being nosy.”
Caleb touched his nose like he’d never noticed it before. “Me? No, Knox asked me to meet him. He’s got to run that beast of his.” Caleb’s eyes flicked Danielle’s way.
Danielle sucked in her stomach and studied the intricate way Sydney had tucked the toilet paper into a string belt to hold up the skirt. She missed whatever he said next, and then he was gone and Grams cleared her throat.
“I’m proud to announce that Sydney, Eliza, and Danielle are the winners!”
The assembled women clapped, and Sydney curtsied. “What did we win?”
“The best of prizes,” Grams intoned gravely. “The greatest of honors.”
“Spit it out already,” Eliza griped. “And it better be good.”
Riley and Grams exchanged a look that even Danielle could tell meant trouble.
“You three”—Riley paused, milking the moment every bit as much as her Grams would have—“get to plan our bachelorette party!”
Danielle shook her head, sure she hadn’t heard correctly, but Sydney was already accepting with “How fun! You knew I’d do it anyway, right? Like you could stop me.”
Riley smiled. “I’d hoped so. But I wanted to make it official.” Sydney hurried to her for a hug.
Eliza bumped Danielle’s elbow with her own. “Strangest bridal shower I’ve ever been to, but thank goodness for Sydney. Looks like you and I are off the hook.”
“Oh no, you’re not.” Sydney waggled her finger in their direction. “I’m deputizing you. Phones out, everyone. Time to set up the group chat.”
“Penises.” Grams’ voice cut through the tip-tap of Sydney setting up the chat. “Penises on everything. The cake. The tiaras.”
“Tiaras?” Danielle whispered to Eliza.
“Penis tiaras,” Eliza whispered back.
“The tablecloths. The napkins.” Grams continued her list.
Danielle typed fast to keep up with the requests.
“The strippers!” Grams surveyed the group triumphantly. “The strippers should definitely have penises. Big ones, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re not being subtle. And there will not be strippers.” Riley made the slashing sign at her throat. “Got that, ladies? No strippers.”
Danielle erased the line item.
Grams stuck out her lower lip. “Sometimes, Riley, I wonder who raised you.”
“The best grandmother ever, that’s who.” Riley slung an arm around her Grams’ shoulders, and Grams blushed prettily at the compliment.
“But for real, ladies.” Riley made eye contact with Sydney, then Eliza, then Danielle. “No strippers.”
“Strippers it is.” Eliza cackled, and only Grams joined in on the laugh.
* * *
Knox had seen some strange things during his days in the Corps, but he’d never seen anyone dressed completely in toilet paper before, and here he was staring at three of them.
“What is going on?” he whispered to Caleb, hand tig
ht on Sarge’s leash. The dog somehow knew Danielle was inside and was straining to get closer to her, a sentiment Knox well understood. He couldn’t be mad that she’d gone on with her day like last night was a regular, not-at-all-life-changing night. Except he kind of was. He’d liked her in his bed. Liked it so much he wished they were both still there.
He peered through the glass doors at the front of the Dorothy, noting the abundance of pink and the too-loud laughter. That punch bowl was undoubtedly spiked. He couldn’t imagine any other way someone had convinced Danielle to be draped in toilet paper. Not that she wasn’t rocking the look. She totally was. And it was easy to imagine how quickly the toilet paper layers would rip away with one firm tug of his hand.
Caleb held LouLou under his arm and joined him at the glass door. “It’s the bridal shower. Some game or something. We can go around the back if you want to avoid it.”
Sarge whined as if he understood the suggestion and disagreed.
“Into the fray?” Caleb pushed open the door before Knox decided the best course of action. He’d woken to an empty bed, a disappointment so acute he’d lain on his back for a full minute, staring at the ceiling, before deciding she’d probably gotten anxious about her dogs and the puppies. He’d shot her a good-morning text. She’d not returned it. He’d followed up an hour later with a picture of Sarge lounging in the sun. Still no response. Restless, he’d asked Caleb to meet him at the dog park. He might not be able to run three miles in twenty-five minutes anymore, but it sure was a joy to watch Sarge work off his injury. While the weak leg was still a challenge for the dog, he’d taken to trying out short bursts of speed, especially when they first arrived at the park.
“Knox?” Caleb held the door open, and the sounds of women’s laughter drifted out.
Riley’s and Grams’ bridal shower was a perfectly good reason for Danielle to turn off her phone. Knox ignored the restlessness in his stomach. Everything was fine with Danielle. She’d had an obligation. She wasn’t ignoring him.
Except she did. Or at least tried to. She saw him across the lobby and quickly looked away. Sarge led the way through the clumps of women, and Knox nodded greetings to the women who called out to him but didn’t stop to chat. Danielle was heading toward the women’s bathroom as fast as she could hobble in the whatever-it-was she was wearing, and lucky for him, that wasn’t very fast.
“Hey.” He let out the leash a bit, and Sarge got to her first.
Predictably, she slowed for the dog. “Hey.” She petted the top of Sarge’s head while he gave her toilet-paper outfit a thorough sniffing.
It wasn’t an outfit, though. Knox’s gaze traveled hungrily down her body, catching on a strip of belly visible between the layers of toilet paper. It was a wedding dress.
Intellectually, he understood it was some girly bridal-shower joke, this odd contraption of a dress made out of the flimsiest material possible. But it was Danielle. In a wedding dress. And it made him a little dizzy on his feet. He braced a hand against the wall for support. “Marry me.”
“What? You didn’t just say that.” Danielle’s eyes darted from him to the bathroom like she wanted to escape. Why? Last night, and this morning, had been perfect. Hadn’t it?
“Dani, I’m serious. You’re dressed for it and everything.” The marry me had slipped out without conscious decision, but his gut reactions had saved his life in many situations. He trusted his gut now. There was something so right about Danielle in a wedding gown that it made his insides clench with need just looking at her.
“Stop teasing.” She glared at him, then led him past the bathroom, down the hallway to Caleb and Riley’s place, and out a side door. They stood on the top of a three-step stoop he’d watched Mendo and Lance retile with a mosaic pattern Carrie’d picked out. It was a warm day, but Danielle wrapped her arms around her waist, hiding the sexy patch of belly playing peekaboo with him. “Knox, I—”
And suddenly he knew. She was going to end it, end it before they even really got started. He felt the same panic crawl up his throat he’d felt when the doctor first told him about the medical separation paperwork making its way through the correct channels. As close as they’d been last night, today she was going to separate herself from him.
“Wait, let me—” Knox scrambled for the words that would stop it from happening. Sarge leaned against his leg, and Knox gave him the signal to lie down. The big dog sighed and stretched himself out, effectively blocking anyone else from using the door. If only Danielle were as eager to please, but she wasn’t one of the Marines under his command or a rescue in need of some structure in a loving home. She was Danielle Morrow, and she was about to rip the heart out of his chest and crush it in her small hand. He couldn’t let that happen.
Knox’s grasp tore the toilet paper at her waist. He slid his palm over the curve of her hip and lowered his face to hers, sliding his lips from her ear, along her jaw, until he could press them softly against her mouth. Soft, so soft. He nuzzled his nose against hers. “Is it so crazy that I want to wake up with you every morning?”
“You’re not being fair.” Danielle pulled away from his kiss, the back of her hand against her mouth as if to ward him off. Knox reached to bring her against his body, but she took a step away from him, teetering on the edge of the step. “I can’t do this with you. Not again.”
“Do what?” Knox worried about the stubborn tilt of her chin, the hard gleam in her eyes. “This?” He ignored her body language and hauled her in, flush against him.
“Stop it.” Her voice shook as much as the body pressed to his.
Shit. She was scared. This time, he was the one to step back. He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. Please, talk to me.”
Her brown eyes were so wide, and they shimmered with unshed tears. He fought back the instinct to take charge, to command the next action, to demand her surrender.
Danielle clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t know what we’re doing. What you want from me. But we can’t have a future together, so we should end it now. Go back to being friends.”
“I’ve been pretty clear what I want. And friendship is not it.” Knox tracked every twitch of her muscles, so he didn’t miss the way she winced at his words. “What?”
“This.” She waved a hand between them. “Yeah, it feels good, but if we go down this road again, what happens?”
Knox blinked. He could think of a hundred things, no a thousand things, that could happen. That he’d make happen. Between them. In bed. His bed. Not her point, though, and he couldn’t blame her. Last time, he’d knocked her up, thrown her life a real curveball. She was right to be skittish.
“I’ll be careful. We’ll use protection.” He gentled his voice, meaning to reassure her that he wasn’t as careless as he’d been when they were teens. He’d take care of her this time. Except he hadn’t, had he? He’d been careless with her once again. No wonder she was upset.
Danielle made a sound he’d never heard before, a low keen that suddenly erupted into a choking sob. She wrapped both hands around her stomach and bowed her head, long bangs sweeping forward so he couldn’t see her face. He took a hesitant step forward, but she—there was no other word for it—growled at him.
He held up his hands where she could see them, the universal sign of surrender. “What’s wrong?”
“I told you, I can’t do this.” She ripped off some of her toilet-paper sleeve to dab at her wet eyes.
“So don’t marry me. That was a stupid thing to say. We’ve only been on one date. But at least let me take you out a second time. Give us a chance, Dani. The chance we didn’t have before.” Knox could actually feel the adrenaline ramming through his body, putting every nerve ending on high alert.
Danielle hid her face in the crook of her elbow, shoulders shaking. When she finally dropped her arm to look at him, her eyes were puffy with tears.
“We had our chance. Yo
u walked away.” Her voice didn’t accuse, not exactly, but he felt the slap of her words.
“I thought a clean break was best.” He ducked his head, unable to look at her while he uttered the mantra that had gotten him through boot camp, had helped him stay strong against the temptation of reaching out to her.
“Best for you maybe.” She swiped at the tears already drying on her cheeks.
“Best for you.” That had always been his reasoning. “I didn’t want to ruin your life. Keep you from achieving all your dreams.”
Danielle stomped her foot. “Your mom is such a bitch.”
“What?” Knox’s head snapped up.
“You heard me. I don’t like to talk bad about another woman, but she really did a number on you, acting like having you was the end of her life. You bought it, too, hook, line, and sinker. All that guilt over something you had no control over. And look what it did to us.” She gestured between them like it was an insurmountable chasm.
He blinked, the familiar guilt rising, bitter in his mouth. “She could’ve been a star.”
Danielle snorted. “Plenty of stars have kids. Open your eyes, Knox. Your mom was miserable, and she took it out on you. But you’re a grown-up now. See the situation for what it really was.”
Knox’s head shook and shook. Danielle was right. If he were honest, he’d known for years that his mom didn’t really have what it took to be an actor. Although she did love drama, she loved her leisurely lifestyle living off her generous alimony checks from Robert Donovan more. In his entire life, she’d never done one thing—taken an acting or singing class, auditioned for a local theater group, nothing—to get her closer to her dream.
Still, he felt the need to defend her, his mother, the only person in his family who hadn’t mocked him for enlisting. “She did her best, in spite of everything.”
