Rocking off of the car, he waved at me. “Nice to run into you, Sugar.”

Narrowing my eyes, I edged down the steps. “What are you doing here?”

“Bringing you coffee.” He revealed two cups behind him, balancing on the Ferrari's hood. “Extra cream, just the way you like it.”

I blushed red hot. “You came here just to bring me coffee?”

“Is that surprising?”

Opening my mouth, I paused. “Yeah, actually.”

“I'm hurt.” Passing me one of the drinks, he chuckled. “But I was also told you'd be doing errands today, and I thought you could use some company.”

He'd been told? By who? Thinking about the Christmas party, I connected the dots. “My mother told you, didn't she?”

Sipping his coffee, he nodded. “Yup.”

Cursing that woman for meddling, I took a quick pull from my paper cup. The aroma of coffee grinds and the sultriness of cream washed over me. He'd made the drink perfectly. “Abell, you don't want to come to a bridal store. It's what groups of girls do, you know? Giggling, sitting around, trying on clothes? Boring.”

“Beautiful women changing in and out of their clothing? Sounds like my kind of place.”

Prickles of jealousy ran up my spine. I washed them down with another drink. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I wiggled the coffee side to side.

“Thank me by letting me drive you to your appointment.”

My resistance was flaking off, washed away by days of his flirting. Peering at the ground so I didn't have to see his grin, I said, “Alright. My gift to you is letting you drive me.”

He cut the air with his warm laugh. “Aren't I lucky?” Tapping his keys, the doors unlocked. “Your chariot awaits.”

It was a challenge not to lighten up when he was so playful. Slipping into the car, I went to turn the radio on. “Hey,” I said, hesitating. “What happened to your knob?”

“My 'knob' is just fine, what'd you hear?”

Rolling my eyes, I pointed at the radio. He saw what I meant, and his frown was a quick flicker. Pushing the gas pedal, he started us forward so roughly I bounced back in my seat. “Hey!”

“Sorry.”

I shot him a side-eye. He's hiding something. I didn't know how to casually prod, so I let it be. Whatever had happened to his radio didn't matter, anyway.

Well, except that now I didn't have music to escape into and avoid conversation.

Heat roared from the vents, making the Ferrari toasty—welcome compared to the chilly day. It actually made me sleepy, sitting there with the hum of the engine and the cozy warmth.

“I don't usually have to ask this,” he said, his smirk going crooked. “But you'll have to direct me.”

Lifting my chin, I dared to meet his smile with my own. “It's not the first time I've done that.”

In the centers of his irises, a glimmer of delicious promise grew. “I guess you're right. You did direct me to fuck you over and over that night.” Pointedly, he looked down at my chest, growling in the back of his throat.

Pushing my knees together, I turned away. My breath was coming so fast it actually fogged the window up. “There, up ahead, ” I said, my tone shaking. Calm down. I pointed at the street. “Turn right there, the shop is just a bit further.”

It was a mint and pink building, the giant windows displaying white dresses in various styles. Just as I was regaining my composure, a new wave—a different wave—of nerves slammed into me.

This is it. Struggling with the handle, I jumped out of the Ferrari and sucked in the chilly air.

Abell locked the car, walking to me with his hands folded behind his head. “You alright?”

Breathe. Breathe. You can do this.

My hands rested on my knees, I was bent in two. “Yeah. I mean, no.” Giggling uneasily, I shook myself. “It's just weird. I never expected... I don't know.”

“What? You never thought you'd get married?”

My brain flashed with memories. One of them, a vivid image of my mother throwing a cellphone at my father, had my stomach twisting. “You know what my parents are like, I don't have the most positive views about the custom.”

“I hear you there.”

Yes. Of course he did. The story about his poor mother had opened my eyes to his tragic past. It also helped me understand that day, when he'd cradled a tulip and complimented how it would suit me.

Everything he knew about color, he'd learned from her.

My lungs stretched; I was dizzy, but less panicked. “Come on,” I said. “Let's get this over with.”

The door jingled as we entered. A man in a crisp, grey vest looked up, greeting me with a giant smile. “Hello! How can I help you?”

“Um, I guess I have an appointment? Nix Halloway?”

“Oh, of course!” He threw up his hands, startling me. “Your mother called ahead. You aren't giving us much time to get you fitted, you know,” he teased. “I'm Bates, I'll be taking care of you.” Spotting Abell, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you the fiance?”

Fiance. Cripes.

Abell reached out, circling an arm around my waist. “That's right. Future husband.” He squeezed one of my ass cheeks firmly.

I bit my tongue, the pain stopping me from whimpering at his possessive touch. Sliding out of his reach, I motioned for Bates to hurry and lead the way, staying several feet ahead of Abell. “Sorry for the short notice, I usually do things with much more planning.”

“It's no trouble. I'm going to get you into a dress you'll love.” His voice rolled with amusement. “Your mother emphasized not to worry about the cost, and we all know money smooths every inconvenient wrinkle life has for us.”

Once, I would have agreed. For some reason, thinking about money formed a crater in my guts. Money is why I'm doing this. I glanced sideways at Abell. And money is why he's going along with this charade.

That fact dug at me like a rusty nail.

Shaking off my weird mood, I followed Bates further into the store. Dresses hung off every hook, glittering bright as new snow in every style.

Abruptly, the clerk pulled up short, pointing at Abell. “I'm sorry, Mister...”

“Just call me the husband to be.”

The clerk made a face. “We prefer the fiances to stay here.” He pointed at a lone bench in the middle of the store. “Seeing your bride in her dress before the big day isn't standard.”

“I don't think I'm a very 'standard' guy,” Abell said. Nodding at me, he ran his fingers down the front of his shirt. Helplessly, I pictured him running his hand over me. “Do you care if I watch?” He didn't hide the lust that ruled his expression.

I wanted to be offended, but a little twinge rolled through my belly. “You weren't supposed to come at all. Just sit there, I'll be done fast.”

Bates frowned as deep as he could. “It takes time to find the perfect dress for the biggest day of your life.”

I laughed sourly. “Anything that fits me will be good enough.” When his frown shifted into sadness, I corrected myself. “Not to say what you do isn't worth the effort! I'm just... I'm easy to please.”

Abell's voice was thick as he whispered, “You certainly are.”

Sweating across my neck, I nudged Bates around the corner. “Let's get this show on the road!” Glaring over at Abell, I tried to express all of my distaste in a single scowl.

Of course, he only bared his pearly teeth, flopping onto the bench comfortably.

Bates led me to an area that was quiet and empty. A stall was cut into the wall, dresses decorating the racks around us like an ethereal lace forest.

The instant we were alone, he handed me several of them, stacking my arms until I grunted. “Go on,” he said, waving at me. “Get in the stall and try one!”

Brushing the curtain aside, I squinted at the inside of the room. “There are no mirrors in here.”

“Of course not!” He pointed at a podium that was surrounded by reflective walls. “Your first visual will be dramatic, astounding! It's the only way to experience the dress, and to know if it's the one.”