Page 1 of Trash the Dress

PROLOGUE

Scarlett

“You’re doing the right thing,” I tell myself in the mirror. My nerves are frazzled and almost nonexistent. This time next week, I’ll be a married woman. I love Eric. We’ve been together for three years. Granted, I sort of freaked out when he proposed. But…I love him. He’s my best friend. How lucky does that make me that I get to marry my best friend?

I let out a slow, shallow puff of air before pulling my favorite lip gloss from the back pocket of my jeans. Maybe my case of nerves is from my self-imposed celibacy kick. I’m not a virgin, but I wanted to wait to have sex for a while leading up to my wedding night.

I can’t stay in this bathroom much longer or the girls will come looking. So, I glide the applicator across my lips before putting it back, and then run my fingers through my long, dark hair, making it fall in front of my shoulders in soft waves as I check my reflection one more time.

Satisfied with my appearance, I exit the bathroom, and head back to the high-top table where the girls I love the most sitdrinking some kind of fruity cocktail and laughing at who knows what. Tonight is our last girls’ night out before I walk down the aisle and my life changes forever.

The girls chose this bar because they wanted to check out my wedding photographer. In the midst of all the wedding plans, I let it slip that our grumpy but roguishly handsome photographer owns High Road Bar since his dad, Danny Bailey, stepped down. His son, Zander Bailey—one and the same grumpy photographer—runs it now and has made it his life from what I’ve heard.

But he used to be one of the best photographers around. Weddings were his specialty. He knew how to capture the love between two people and present it in a way that made you envious of a two-dimensional picture. From what I understand, he stayed booked so far out that you had to be on a waiting list in hopes to be lucky enough he’d be the one to help commemorate your perfect day through his camera lens. I can see why from the pictures he used to take. Then one day, he just stopped.

Rumor has it he was heartbroken by his fiancée, and he no longer wanted to have anything to do with love. That brings us to where he is now, and subsequently, why the girls dragged me to this bar to check him out before he captures my wedding.

Eric’s dad was childhood best friends with Zander’s dad, and apparently, he had to do some sweet-talking and probably some begging, but Zander agreed to photograph our wedding as a favor to Eric’s dad. He made it clear he’s not open for business further than that. His reluctance was not lost on me when we met to go over the details.

Eric didn’t have much to say about him. From what I gathered, they weren’t ever friends. Zander is about four years older than Eric, and they didn’t live near each other. They saw each other a handful of times growing up.

Come to think of it, that would make Zander about six years older than me. I’m twenty-seven, so he should be about thirty-three. I catch a glimpse of him behind the bar as I take the final few steps back to our table. He seems older than his early thirties to me. Perhaps it’s the tiny little lines at the corners of his eyes—the ones referred to as laugh lines—and I find myself hoping they truly are from laughing.

I’m not sure why the thought occurred to me, but it’s like I sense some kind of sadness within him. One he tries to keep hidden from the world, but it still radiates from him in ways I can’t quite explain. Maybe the rumors are true and it’s from the woman who broke his heart. If so, I hope he finds his happiness again. Not that it’s any of my business.

“Okay, girls, have you seen enough? Can we go?” I ask sweetly while letting my gaze land on each one of my friends.

Anna hiccups and giggles. “No way, sister! We’re feeling good and we’re in the coolest country bar ever. The limo we rented is parked out front and the driver said to take our time. We’re staying!”

The rest of the girls raise and clink their glasses together and collectively say, “Hear, hear.” Then they finish their drinks and laugh before Anna’s eyes widen and sparkle with a mischievous gleam in them. That look can only mean one thing…she’s about to dare me to do something I’ll regret later.

“I dare you to get Mr. Grumpy-Hot-Photographer to smile,” she says while grinning so big, her premolars show in her pearly-white smile.

I grip her by both shoulders and say, “You do know I’m getting married next week, right? This is my bachelorette party. I have no business trying to get another man to smile at me.”

She leans in close so the other girls can’t hear and quietly says, “By law and every way that matters, you’re still single. Besides, you know Eric isn’t my favorite person. As happy asI am that you’re happy, I’m not thrilled he’s the guy you’re chancing forever on.”

I let my head fall forward and take a breath. This has been an ongoing battle with her. She says she doesn’t like Eric, and she never has. She has no reason to back up her feelings; she just doesn’t. But she’s still my best friend and gives me her never-ending support in everything I do. It’s been that way since we were in the fifth grade. And it isn’t that I don’t find her feelings valid, but she doesn’t know Eric like I do.

I glance back up at her and she grins again. “So…are you going to chicken out on a dare for the first time ever?” She arches one brow waiting on my answer.

We’ve always pushed and pulled each other along. She knows me well enough to know I never back down from a dare. So, instead of doing the sensible adult thing and passing on this one, I stand and square my shoulders before saying, “I’ll find a dare that’ll make you want to crawl under a table for this…just wait.”

She bursts out laughing and says, “I love you, hunny-bunny.”

I roll my eyes and answer, “I love you too, tootsie-wootsie.”

As I turn away from the table full of my friends, I set my sights on Zander Bailey. He has his back turned, giving me a moment to come up with a way to make him smile. I’m rusty at trying to talk to someone of the opposite sex since I’ve been with Eric for so long—I’ve had no reason to.

When I finally come to a stop at the bar, he keeps his back turned. The waitress is darting around other customers dropping off both food and drinks, so thankfully she doesn’t have time to see me staring at her boss’s broad back.

I clear my throat. “Um, knock, knock,” I say and let out an awkward laugh while cringing inside at how lame that must have sounded.

The muscles ripple in his arms as he places the glass tumbler he was drying on the shelf in front of him before then turningaround to stare at me. “Can I get you something?” he asks. I can’t help but take in the beauty of his dark eyes. They’re dark around the edge, almost chocolate colored, but the insides are peppered with flecks of something that remind me of whiskey.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, please,” I say as I stumble over my words. I turn and point to the table where we’ve been sitting, and the girls raise their empty glasses in response with less than sober smiles on their pretty faces.

I can’t help the laugh that slips out at how embarrassing this is in addition to how they look right now. I shake my head as I turn back to find Zander’s waiting gaze still on me. “We need another round of drinks over there.”

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