Page 3 of All Dressed Up

CHAPTER ONE

Will Jenkins was done with Rachel Foster.

Over. Finished. Finite.

Dunzo.

He tore his gaze away from the glass window and threw the empty bag of cheese puffs to the floor, wiping his orange-stained fingers over his white T-shirt.

Enough was enough.Will Jenkins did not stew over any woman.Period.He needed to pull himself together and grow a pair.

But first, a drink. He moved across his mother’s store to the glass counter and grabbed the bottle of pink Champagne he’d opened earlier, tilting it up, way up. The only alcohol he had on hand at the moment in the Belle Bridal Boutique.

It would more than do the trick and take the familiar edge off. Working across the street from Buttermilk Blooms was slowly killing him. He’d gotten used to its owner acting like she wanted nothing to do with him, but having to see her every day—every...single...day—was more torture than any man should endure.

This Monday was no different. Moments ago, Rachel had stepped out of her florist shop to water her outside plant displays, her daily lunchtime routine. She radiated beauty—she always did. Her sleek blonde hair flowing past her shoulders. Her red, sleeveless dress showing off her perfectly tanned arms. Her beautiful smile as she chatted on the sidewalk with a thirty-something male who was, no doubt, flirting with her.

More than once, he’d thought about sauntering across the street, saying a cordial hello, and acting like seeing her meant nothing, but it’d never work. Nope. Not even worth risking it. Rachel Foster was the only woman in this town who could reduce him to mush with one bat of her long eyelashes.

It’d always been that way. He’d had a thing for the pretty florist that dated way back to high school.

Yeah, he’d had it bad then, making up every excuse under the sun to walk by her senior locker on the other side of the building, a far distance from his sophomore one. He’d joined the football team just to be near the popular cheerleader. He’d even saved up money to purchase a kayak from his part-time job at the Majestic Theater so he could oar by the Fosters’ rental cottage on Buttermilk Lake to get a glimpse of Rachel sunbathing.

He’d been two grades behind her, but so what? That didn’t stop him from trying.

Until she’d gotten together with her classmate Adam Reed.

And that was that. He took another swig of the Champagne for his mind’s stroll down memory lane.

Back then, he’d let any hopes of Rachel noticing him die. He worked out. Got a girlfriend, lost his virginity. Moved on. Still, when he’d learned that Rachel and Adam were moving in together after she graduated from college, he’d felt the same teenage heartbreak he’d experienced the night he witnessed Rachel walk right up to Adam and ask him out on the football field.

It sucked to know they’d bought a house together, but Will had shrugged it off. Went about his business. It was a small town, so it wasn’t unusual to run in to the happy couple. He and Adam even became friends, both volunteers at the fire department. He assumed that Adam would inevitably ask Rachel to marry him and they’d start a family.

But then the craziest, unimaginable thing happened. Adam and Rachel broke up.

Yep. For the last two years, Rachel Foster had been on the market.

But she still never gave Will the time of day. He was an average Joe mechanic running his dad’s auto body shop on the edge of town, and she was Main Street royalty with her successful florist shop. One night, he’d bumped into her on the corner and asked if she wanted to get a drink. Her face told him her answer, her gaze casting judgment over his dirty overalls covered in car oil.

Last fall, he’d heard talk that she was setting her sights on Carter Manning, the town’s veterinarian. He’d also heard rumors that she might be interested in getting back together with Adam.

So be it. He had other options.

One night before the holidays, he found himself randomly escorting Rachel to her car after a night of ice-skating. She’d been with Adam, but when Bethany had taken a hard fall, Adam had sprung into action, tending to her while leaving Rachel alone.

He threaded his fingers and cracked his knuckles. That night had been unexpected. They’d taken their time, strolling through the park and checking out the gazebo’s Christmas lights. She then finally accepted his invitation for a drink at the Buttermilk Tavern.

And there had been a lot on her mind. He’d listened as she confessed that her date with Adam hadn’t been all she’d thought it would be, and she would have had more fun staying at home painting her nails. Adam, Carter, she was tired of predictable men who bored her to tears.

He could still feel her crystal blue eyes blaze into his as she teased that she might like something spontaneous and bad for her for a change.

He knew what she was implying. He had a bit of an egomaniac, bad-boy reputation—more than a bit. It didn’t take him long to suggest they go to her place for what had been hands down the best sex of his life. Before he left the next morning, he’d leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, inviting her to stop by the auto shop anytime for a tune-up.

He didn’t know if she would or if it was just a one-night stand, but later that week, she drove her Audi in after hours for that tune-up, which led to a full body reinspection in her back seat.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile. Yeah, she hadn’t minded his overalls or that he was covered in grease that night.

After a couple of months of sneaking around, and a lot of tuning up in secret places, Rachel had abruptly called it off, making up some lame excuse that they’d never work. Now, they barely spoke.

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