Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I smiled. “Oh God. Olivia did the same. I think we might have a problem.”
Wilder turned the key to start the car. “Yeah, if my ball-busting little brother gets a Carrick for a girlfriend before I do, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
A loud chirp sounded from inside my purse.
“Is that your phone?” Wilder asked.
“No.” I rummaged through my purse for my cell. “It’s an alarm for my insulin pump.”
“You okay?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. It usually is.” I opened the pump app. My supposed blood-sugar reading flashed on the screen. If it was right, it would be a problem. But sometimes the reader just needed a reset. To be on the safe side, though, I needed to go back upstairs. “Can you just give me two minutes? I’m going to run back inside and double-check that this is a bad reading with an old-school finger prick.”
“Should I come?”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll just be two minutes, really.”
I huffed it up to my apartment, did a quick stick of my finger, and inserted the slip into the glucose monitor. Sure enough, my blood sugar was fine. I needed to talk to the doctor about the increase in alarms at my next appointment.
Back downstairs, I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Everything okay?” Wilder asked.
“Perfect. The machine just does that once in a while.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “You ready to get rid of that dress?”
I took a deep breath. “I am. And this was really so sweet of you, Wilder.”
He put the car in drive, but kept his foot on the brake, looking over at me. “Told you, Cupcake. Not sweet, just want to spend time with you.” He winked. “Plus, the sooner you put old dreams to bed, the better my chances of getting you to go out with me.”
I didn’t buy for a minute that he didn’t have a sweet side, but I also didn’t call him out on it. The bridal shop was only a half mile away, so ten minutes later, we parked. I took a deep breath as he opened the door for me to walk through first.
“Hi,” I said to the woman at the counter. “I have an appointment to sell a wedding dress.”
“It is used?”
I frowned. “Yes, but I only wore it for an hour because … Well, I only wore it for an hour.”
She pointed to a hook on the top of a tall silver pole next to the register. “You can hang it there. It’ll take me a while to inspect the dress and research the value. If you want, take a look around a bit. There’s a section of cocktail dresses in the back. Most people check that out, since we only give store credit.”
“You only give store credit?”
The woman nodded.
“Is that a new policy?”
“Been that way as long as I’ve worked here. So at least two years.”
I sighed. How the heck did I not know that? “Maybe I should…”
Wilder looked at me. “Are there other places that give cash?”
I shrugged. “I think so?” I chewed on my fingernail, debating.
Wilder put his hand on my shoulder and gently guided me to turn. Once we were facing each other, he put his other hand on my other shoulder, sort of like a coach talking to his player.
“You have ten more weddings you can buy dresses for.”
He was right, but …
Wilder must have read the hesitation on my face. He leaned in and spoke more softly. “Do you want to keep that chapter of your life open?”
I shook my head.
“Then sell the dress, Sloane.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, looking over at the sales clerk. “I’ll take the store credit.” It felt good to say. I smiled at Wilder. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Now come on…” He slung an arm around my shoulder and walked us toward the back of the store. “You’re going to try on sexy shit for me as a reward for being such a good friend.”
My smile grew. I could handle that.
Ten minutes later, I exited the dressing room wearing a dress so low-cut, I’d checked twice to see if it was on backward before coming out.
Wilder’s face slid into a dirty grin as he stared at my very on-display cleavage. “Now that’s a keeper.”
I chuckled. “I’m practically naked.”
“I know. It’s freaking great.”
I’d turned to go back into the dressing room when a display caught my eye—a wedding dress that reminded me of the one JFK Jr.’s wife, Carolyn, wore on her wedding day.
Wilder followed my line of sight. “You see something you like?”
“That dress is amazing.”
He pointed. “The gown? Does it look like the one you’re selling?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing like mine. But I think it might be the first dress since mine to give me goose bumps.” I lifted my arm to show him.
Wilder shrugged. “Why don’t you try it on?”