Page 23 of Kiss the Bride

Hurt me once, shame on Hunter. Hurt me twice, shame on me.

Hunter and Mitchel. I hadn’t been enough for either of them.

Not enough to love. Caught in my head, I don’t move until the girl hands me the clothes.

“I’ll ring them up while you’re changing.”

“Thanks.”

Will I ever be enough?

If Not Me, Who?

Hunter

I have no rightto feel this happy, or for my body to react this way to Liv.Muscle memory?Perhaps, or maybe I never stopped considering a small part of Olivia Woodgrove as mine.

The Olivia who emerges from the changing room is not the same broken flower who cried in my arms just minutes ago. Her blonde hair, now loose and finger-combed, frames a makeup- and tear-free face. Gone is the purple baggy jumper thing and in its place are grey yoga pants that leave little to my imagination. The purple mesh top barely hides a white lace bra, making my pulse quicken while a large muscle stirs uncomfortably in my fitted suit trousers. This isn’t just muscle memory; this is one thousand hopes and dreams smashed together in one sexy as fuck vision who doesn’t realize how beautiful or sexy she is.

“Um, not that I want to complain, but don’t you think you should get a top or something underneath that purple thing?” I barely utter the words without stuttering to the amusement of the girl who took my credit card.

“Why?” Liv twirls around, looking for a mirror.

“Sweet, sweet, Liv, I could describe the white lace detail on your bra all night, or you could—“

“Oh!” she shrieks, grabs a few tops from the closest rack, and races back into the changing room.

“Whatever she took, add it to my bill,” I tell the girl, who is now eyeing me curiously. I get it. It’s not every day the best man runs away with the bride and buys her a new wardrobe.

“You don’t act like her ex,” she challenges me before ringing up the clothes.

“Like I said, best man turned best friend.” I look around the store, before adding, “I don’t know what she packed for her honeymoon, but I’m assuming there aren’t a lot of casual clothes. You’ve seen her, and know her size. Grab another couple of shorts, tops, and some hair tie thingys. Put it all on my card.”

“Hunter?” Liv joins us at the counter, now wearing a black top under the purple netting. My imagination refuses to erase the memory of that white lace bra.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Consider it my non-wedding present. Clothes to curl up in.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about the presents.” Her smile fades, but at least her eyes water without tears this time. “I guess I’ll be giving my house back to Daddy.”

“It’s not in both names?”

“No. Daddy’s only condition. His gift to both of us, but it had to be in my name.”

“Smart guy.”

“I wonder if he knew. Who else must have suspected?”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” I say quickly, brushing a stray hair from her face and cupping her cheek. “You need clothes, and I’m pretty sure whatever you packed for a honeymoon didn’t include casual stuff.”

“I don’t even want to unpack my suitcase.” She glances at the pile of clothes being bagged up and I wonder if we have time to dash back and put it through as additional checked luggage, or just pay the fine as we board. I don’t have to think twice—pay the fine. “Actually, I hope my suitcases get lost by the airline.”

“If you want it gone, I’ll make it happen. But don’t deny me the chance to dress you from head to toe in lycra.”

“You are so bad.” She swats my chest and I grab her hand, twirling her under my arm, out and pulling her back in as if we’re about to dance.

“Don’t you know it. I’m the baddest, bestest man about to whisk away the sexiest, sweetest bride on her non-honeymoon.”

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