Page 41 of The Love Wager

I feel the clips prodding into me that are holding the back of the gown closed, but I press into them, letting my hands wander the planes of Indie’s curves as her breath hitches.

“Brooks. I don’t have time for?—"

“Shh.”

“Did you just shush me?” She whips around as the woman comes from the back of the store to check on us.

The next few seconds could be described as a series of unfortunate events. At least, I’m confident that’s how the salesperson will relay them to everyone she knows as soon as we leave here.

As Indie spun, the clips caught on my button-up shirt, opening the back of the dress. This wouldn’t have been a massive issue had I not been standing on said dress.

As she twirls on me, the dress not only opens but drops.

And my beautiful Indie, she covered her bases. She’d forgone the bra she likely wore in here to ensure the dress would fit perfectly.

Her breasts pop out as the dress shop employee gasps, and I lurch for Indie. It’s a split-second decision that leaves Indie pressed against the mirror behind her, with both of my hands covering her perfect tits. We both lock eyes, holding one another’s stare before I crack the first smile, and Indie bursts out laughing.

“If you wanted to see my boobs, you could’ve just asked.”

I shake my head, fighting to stop laughing.

After I helped Indie back to the dressing room and watched her try on three more dresses, she had all three in her arms, except the one I’ll remember in my dreams for the rest of my life—the one she left back at the store.

Half of me wants to go back and buy it so no one can ever wear it again, but that’s crazy.

“Want me to go with you?” I ask her.

“No. Plus, don’t you have to get ready? The rehearsal is at four. You don’t have too much longer.” She glances at her watch on her wrist.

It’s two. She’s right; we do have to get a move on.

I need to ensure the bar and Nick is set for my night away while I go through the rehearsal and dinner with Indie.

The wedding is tomorrow, which is exciting for Spencer and Taylor because it marks their beginning. But for Indie and me, it marks the end of something I’m not sure I want to end at all.

“You’re right. Not all of us are naturally beautiful. I better get,” I joke, and there’s a moment she looks at me as if she wants to say something but is holding back.

“Yeah. Well, see you there!” she says, making off in the opposite direction toward a small car.

I’m left staring at her as she drives off, feeling that I’m wholeheartedly not ready to watch her drive away in two days. But I know that I have to let her go.

We’re on what feels like the hundredth pass of marching down the aisle when my eye twitches uncontrollably.

“No, no, no!” Taylor exclaims, stomping her foot. “The timing is all off.”

“Don’t worry, my love. That doesn’t matter,” Spencer says, trying to console his bride-to-be, but she eyes him with a murderous glare, and he stiffens, clearing his throat.

“We’re going again!” Spencer calls, and I turn and growl, stomping back toward the beginning of the mile-long walk Taylor has us doing repeatedly.

“Hey,” Indie slips her arm through the crook of mine.

I look down at her as she smiles, inclining her head to the left.

“Come with me.”

“Didn’t you hear the boss? We have to go again.”

“We’re not the issue; Michelle is. She’s got two left feet. Come on.”

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