“You gonna stand therelike the Hulk the whole time?”
“Until you’re behind the closed door of the dressing room where no more pervs can linger awkwardly waiting for a peep show? Yes,” I reply, arms folded as I stand guard in front of Hannah pilfering through a rack of leggings.
She cocks her head. “So, only you, then?”
I’ll confess, I’ve looked. Hell, this woman had her legs straddling me on my bike. How could I not? But I’ll be damned if these baby daddies walking through Target try to sneak a peek at the hot girl wearing the wedding dress in theathleisuresection showing leg nearly to her hip.
“Okay, I have the clothes. Now I just need shoes.”
We turn for the footwear section, but she stops before we get there. “Hang on.”
Hannah hands me the pants and shirt she picked out and tells me to wait before she disappears around the corner. I stand like a deer in headlights, motorcycle helmet in one hand, her clothes draped over my other arm. She returns a minute later with a scrappy lace bra thing.
“You planning a solo honeymoon there, runaway?”
“Sounds like a dream, but no. I can’t gocommando boobsin that shirt.”
I swallow, eyes dipping to the low V of her cleavage in thatgoddamndress. “Right,” I rasp.
Our eyes lock when I hold out my arm, inviting her to stack the unmentionables on top of everything else. She gives me a weak half-smile, ducks her head, and spins for the shoe aisle.I’m such a jerk.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “If I made you uncomfortable just now…That’s the last thing you need tonight, and I apologize.”
Hannah shakes her head, gaze vacant. She fidgets with her hands and tucks some hair behind her ear, all her snarky confidence from earlier gone.
She inhales a long breath through her nose. For a second, I think she might cry. “No, you didn’t,” she says, voice quiet. “At least someone’s looking.”
“Shit!”
That makes four. Four curses in as many minutes from Hannah’s dressing room.
She heaves out a sigh. “Rowan?” I’m on my feet, moving closer as the door creaks open. “I need your help.”
Hannah closes us inside the small space and turns the lock.
“What’s the matter?”
Hands on her hips, she meets my eyes in the mirror. “It’s the buttons.”
My gaze rakes down her mostly exposed spine until I see what she’s referring to—a trail of at least thirty tiny buttons running from her lower back down over the round globe of her ass.
“Can you help?” she asks, casually sweeping her long blonde waves over one shoulder as though I’m not dying inside.
Fist to my mouth, I clear my throat and step closer. “Yeah.”
After a couple of minutes, I manage to release one measly button with my Godzilla thumbs.
“Well,” she says, breaking the silence, “now that you’ve seen me onmy worst day, I think you should tell me what’s made your week so terrible.”
I meet her gaze in the reflection for a beat, return my focus back to the next button. “My grandmother passed away, and I’m here to help my grandfather with…I don’t know…things, I guess.”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Rowan.”
A soft grin hitches one corner of my mouth. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, you don’t have to stay here with me. If you need to get back to your grandfather or?—”
“No. It’s fine. Truly.” I roll my lips, distractedly going in for the forty-eighth attempt to release the next button.Fail. My gaze finds hers again. “You’re the breath of fresh air I needed.”