Page 18 of That Secret Something

She removed her hand and made to brush it on her trousers. Her eyes widened. “Shit, Jess. There’s blood! You’re bleeding. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I tried to wave her off, but she twisted me so she could inspect my scalp. She tipped my head forward, gently parting my hair. I winced, and she pulled back.

“You’ve got a cut,” she murmured, her voice low and thick like velvet. “We should go find a first-aid kit. Or get you seen by a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need to see a doctor.” My breath hitched as her striking eyes met mine, deep and alluring in the lack of light. My heart pounded in my chest and staggered my breathing. Maybe a doctor isn’t such a bad idea.

Her gaze studied my face, making me feel exposed and invigorated all at the same time. “You’ve got to be careful,” she said softly, untangling her hand from my hair. Her attention dropped to my mouth for a second before darting back up. “You, uh, can never be too sure with a knock to the head.” She eyed me carefully. “Do you feel dizzy at all?”

Yes, but probably not for the reasons you’re thinking. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well, erm, here.” She turned around to root in one of the cardboard boxes on the shelf, moving aside bottles of spray and mop-heads before producing a cloth. She tore open the packaging with her teeth and handed it to me. “Put this on your head. Pressure is good for the bleeding.”

Without much choice in the matter, I pressed the cleaning cloth to my head and sighed.

Rebecca smiled, revealing a shallow dimple in her right cheek. “I’m starting to think I’m a bad-luck charm for you.”

My eyes were drawn to her dimple. Now, that’s just unfair. The woman didn’t need any further assistance with the art of seduction. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Whenever we’re alone like this…something seems to happen to you.” Her smile grew, her dimple becoming more defined. “At least you weren’t sick on me this time.”

My stomach rippled, sending tingles up my spine. What was she getting at? The air in the cleaning cupboard suddenly thickened, something noticeable changing in the room. I swallowed, my breathing quickening. I tried not to look at Rebecca’s mouth, but it was impossible, resting so close and so perfectly hers. Her smile dropped, the playfulness gone and replaced with something else.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Rebecca Lawson was thinking about kissing me. That thought sent a flood of heat between my legs.

Rebecca’s eyes searched my face, looking for something. Permission maybe? I couldn’t move, worried that if I did, I might dislodge the fantasy and wake up in my bed. But Rebecca leaned closer, that beautiful mouth slightly parted.

A shrill ringing seared through the room, making us break apart and clutch at our ears. What the hell has happened now?

A woman shouted over the intercom, “This is not a drill. This is a real fire alarm. Please evacuate the building at once!” There was a clattering over the speakers, followed by some commotion. “Get her off of me, Jeffrey!”

The noise of the alarm was deafening, pulverising my eardrums with every high-pitched wail.

Rebecca looked back at me, her hands still over her ears. I watched her lips as she smiled and mouthed, “Definitely bad luck.”

Maybe she has a point.

Eight

If it was any consolation, the grounds at the Wiltchester were absolutely stunning—even when two hundred disoriented brides-to-be and their loyal followers gathered in its gravel car park. There was a general air of confusion among the group, and more than a handful of socialites had smeared make-up and tears in their once-pristine clothing. One young woman was weeping into her mother’s shoulder over her stained blouse, while two others rubbed her back.

I wrapped one arm around myself, trying to shield from the wind, my other hand still pressing the cleaning cloth to the back of my head. Funnily enough, I didn’t feel embarrassed. A lot of the women were in a much worse state than me. For once, looking like a mess meant I fit right in.

The alarm continued to blare as the few last stragglers stumbled down the steps. What the hell had happened here? And where was Lily?

I picked at the skin on my thumb, panic creeping up my neck. She hadn’t been squished in the stampede, had she? I turned to Rebecca and voiced my concerns. She let out a snort of laughter that drew some sharp glares from onlookers.

“I’m serious,” I said. “What if something’s happened to her?”

Rebecca looked me dead in the eye. “It’d take more than a couple of handbags to take down my sister.” I let her words sink in. She was right, of course. Lily could more than handle her own, but still…

I peered over the crowd, searching for her brown hair and the white polka-dot dress she’d been wearing. Thinking I’d spotted her, I opened my mouth, but then the woman turned around. I winced. It was none other than Erica Lundwood. Lily’d kill me if she knew I’d almost mistaken the two. I hoped they didn’t see each other. A stand-off between those two would be the cherry on this already shitty cake.

I felt Rebecca’s gaze on me. “What?” I asked, the question coming out harsher than I’d intended.

When Rebecca didn’t answer, I glanced at her, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“It’s nothing,” she said, her mouth morphing into a dimpled grin. “You’re just cute when you’re like this.”

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