Page 73 of Falling for You Again

Damn, it was scratchy.

And confining.

I struggled to catch my breath, trying to itch and scratch. But I couldn’t reach that one spot between my shoulder blades that was driving me bonkers. When I did try, I lost control of the dress. The skirt exploded in the confined space as I went nuts with the scratching and itching and poking.

“Argh!”

“You okay in there?”

Right. My seatmate. The reluctant bridesman.

I threw open the door. “Undress me.”

“Excuse me?” He lurched back.

I gave him my back. “Unbutton me.” I did a frustrated little dance in an attempt to reach the buttons on my own.

“Can’t somebody else help you? The flight attendant—”

“Is busy doing her job. Please,” I begged, glancing at him over my shoulder. I was too anxious and antsy and unnerved to wait while he hailed someone else. He stared down the tube of the plane with alook of desperation that surely matched my own. I was asking a lot of this stranger.

“Please.” I spoke low and frantic, and he looked at me. Our eyes briefly met, and I noticed how gray his were, how delightful they looked against his lavender button-down shirt. That was the artist in me, always cataloging color schemes. “Trust me, I’m decent underneath.” I tried nudging him toward agreement, as if assuring him would make our situation any less embarrassing. “I just need to get out of this dress.” I stared at the curved wall behind the toilet, waiting to feel the buttons popping, giving my ribs that extra luxurious inch to breathe.

“There’s so many.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Thirty-three buttons in all. I’d counted when one of Paul’s sisters buttoned me up earlier that afternoon.

“They’re so tiny.”

I held my breath.Please.

I felt a featherlight touch against the exposed skin above the dress’s bodice and the soft press of fingers against my back as one button came undone, then another, and another.Thank God.

I sighed loudly, dropping my chin. I was so grateful for his assistance and patience with me.

The first few buttons he unfastened in an inept start and stall, but he quickly found a rhythm. Before I knew it, he murmured, “Done,” and stepped back.

Finally, freedom. I shrugged the dress off my shoulders. The puffed sleeves slid down my arms, and the plethora of tulle and silk flowed down my body to reveal a long, white slip that looked more like a fashionable, modern wedding dress than Cheryl’s gown ever could, no matter how much magic her seamstress had spun.

I turned around, the movement sudden, and my seatmate’s eyes widened before he averted his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to ...” He pointed toward our seats and headed over.

I gleefully scooped up the dress. After hours—make that months—of feeling stifled, I could breathe. I stuffed the dress into the firstoverhead bin, fitting it into the crevices around a couple of pieces of luggage. I shut the compartment and turned to my seat, bumping into my seatmate, who was back to standing in the aisle with our dinner trays.

“You’re getting good at that.” I chanced a smile and took my tray from him as I scooted into our row. He followed me in and we collapsed in our seats with mortified giggles.

“If I ever fantasizedhowI’d join the mile-high club, it did not go like that,” he said.

“Technically, that did not get you into the club. Though it is the first time I’ve been undressed by a stranger.”

He laughed. “It’s a safe bet I’ve never had a day like yours, and I don’t even know what happened.”

“Jilting grooms at the altar isn’t your thing?”

“Ouch. Marriage isn’t my thing. I’m Aaron, by the way. I probably should have introduced myself before I undressed you.”

I shook the hand he offered and an electrified zing shot up my arm. “Oh, wow.” My eyes shot wide open, and I stole a glance at his face to see if he had a similar reaction.

A faint smile played on his lips. “That was something.”

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