Page 12 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
“Dress. Hmph. Nice.” I’m so distracted by her closeness, I’m mumbling nonsense now. Maybe she won’t notice.
She cocks her head. “What’s nice?”
Yeah. She noticed.
“You.” I clear my throat. “Trading your umpire dress with Amber. It’s… nice.” When Natalie laughs, I eye her sideways. “What’s so funny?”
“You said umpire.” She bites back a snort.
“Isn’t that what you called the dress thing?” I frown, thinking hard. “For the other bridesmaid? For… the pregnant one? You said yours would fit her because it has an umpire waist.”
“It’s pronounced empire,” Natalie says. “Or you can say it likeahhm-pier.” Her voice goes low and sexy. “That’s the French way.”
“I took Spanish.” I study the sign coming up on the left, pretending to read the words even though they haven’t changed since I’ve been alive.
Welcome to Southampton.
The population of our neighboring town is supposedly three times that of Abieville, but just like us, their main street is a series of mostly mom-and-pop shops. One church. Two restaurants. Natalie points out the salon she’s supposed to go to in the bottom floor of a two-story brick building. The sidewalk out front is lined with potted plants. I pull up to the curb and cut the engine.
“Thanks for the ride,” Natalie says. “Again. Two in one day.”
“Hold on,” I tell her. “Let me get the door for you. My mom would murder me if she saw you climbing in and out of this truck on your own.”
“Well.” Nat’s lip twitches. “I can’t be responsible for sending Elaine Graham to prison.”
While I jog around the truck, Natalie pulls down the sun visor to check her reflection. But my truck doesn’t have extra stuff like mirrors. I haul open the door.
“You look fine,” I tell her.
“Are you sure? I feel like such a mess, showing up to a dress fitting wearing this.” She sweeps her hand down to indicate her leggings and sneakers.
“Bring the carry-on in with you.” I nod at the luggage at her feet. “They probably have changing rooms in”—I glance at the building, checking out the name on the sign—“Buttons and Bows.”
“They definitely do.” Nat’s mouth quirks. “Changing rooms take up almost half the salon.”
“Come on, then.” I take her hand to help her out, and the zing of her touch through my body is electric. When I reach for her bag, our hands brush again. Whoa. Ireallyneed to stop zinging.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” she says. “I’m sure someone else will have room in their car.”
“Maybe.” I nod at the building. “But Kasey’s had a tough day. Dresses that don’t fit. Floods in the rooms at The Beachfront. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“In that case”—Natalie tips her chin—“welcome to a bridal salon, Brady.”
I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?
She opens the door, and we step into hell.
ChapterSix
NATALIE
Heaven is a bridal salon, and I’d totally swear to that in court. Just look at the pure beauty in this place. It’s like a whole sky dotted with clouds. Row upon row of gowns and veils and slips in all shapes and sizes. Everything is billowy and clean and soft and… yes, heavenly.
It’s the best.
“This place is the worst,” Brady says.
He’s standing behind me, so close I can hear him groan. “You don’t have to stay.” I whirl around. “I already told you that.”
