“That’s a lie, Seth Jordan,” Ava said, laughing as she batted at his arm. “I found a dress in record time. You just had to take me to Dallas to get to the dress shops. That’s what took so long.”
Kristin grinned as she watched the interplay between the siblings, and the oddity of Seth marrying that Kristin Rittman struck Grant anew. In high school, she had been the quintessential Mean Girl, leader of Necessity’s standard popular-kids clique and tormentor of everyone outside her circle.
Seth swore she had changed—that when he came back to Necessity after college, he had discovered the mean girl had a soft side.
She certainly seemed changed, Grant acknowledged.
But I’d be interested to hear Ava’s take on that.
Maybe later today.
Outside the van window, the landscape slipping by gave way to St. John’s. The paved streets were narrow, and the two-and three-story buildings were painted in pinks and blues and greens, some faded by the sun. Their doors stood open to catch the breezes, wooden signs hanging above the sidewalk advertising the store names.
“Oh, look,” Ava gasped, leaning forward and pointing out the front window as they turned a corner into Antigua’s downtown. Just a few blocks away, a giant, white cruise ship towered over the street from where it was docked in the bay.
“I need pictures of that. Are we stopping soon?” she asked the driver, digging her phone out of the bottom of the straw beach bag she was carrying as a purse.
Rather than answer, the driver pulled over.
“Oh, here.” Kristin pulled a sheet of paper out of her own bag and handed it to Ava. “This is the list of dress shops Rose gave me.” She peered out the window and gestured toward one of the shops. “Looks like that’s the first one.”
As Grant and Ava piled out of the van, she leaned back in to give her brother a kiss on the cheek. “You two have fun. See you back at the hotel.”
Grant pretended not to see as Seth slipped a credit card into Ava’s hand. She blinked, startled, but didn’t try to hand it back to him either.
Then the van was pulling away from the curb, and he was following Ava into a dress shop in probably the most romantic city either of them had been to.
No. Not romantic. Friends. We can be friends again.
If only he could think of a way to start moving them back toward friendship.
If only he could be certain that was even possible.
Or what he really wanted at all.
Three dress shops later, Grant was willing to admit he had been wrong. Dress shopping with Ava was not his least favorite thing in the world.
In fact, he was enjoying himself.
“Oh, no.” Her voice echoed from inside one of the dressing rooms. He watched her sandaled feet underneath the curtain as she twirled around once in front of the mirror. “Are you ready for this?”
“I think I’m afraid.” He settled back on the low chair outside the room and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “What’s our category for this one?”
“Hm. I think we can consider this one … Floral Floozy.”
With a flourish, she whipped open the dressing room curtain and stretched one arm up to lean against the wall, Hollywood-starlet style. Tilting her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes, she spoke in a sultry voice. “What do you think?”
Grant’s sarcastic comment died in his throat and his mouth went dry.
I think I want you.
The dress was definitely inappropriate for a wedding. The strapless neckline plunged between Ava’s breasts, and the hemline barely covered the curve of her ass. What little fabric was in between was covered in a bright pink floral print and clung tightly to every curve of her perfect body.
“It beats the hell out of the Island Matron dress in the last shop,” he finally managed to choke out.
“I’m not sure better than a mu-mu is much of an endorsement.” Ava dropped her pose and stared down into her own cleavage. “I’d be terrified of
Apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on him, Ava moved back into the dressing room and glanced over her shoulder into the mirror, checking out the back of the dress. Tugging it down, she laughed. “I might as well wear my bikini to the ceremony.”
At the reminder of her that morning in the bright red suit, stretched out on a beach chair like a cat dozing in the sun, an arrow of heat flashed through him.
Yes, please. Wear the bikini.
No. He couldn’t say that.
“Okay. That’s everything here.” She pulled the curtain closed again, and Grant sat pinned to his seat as he watched the Floral Floozy dress pool around her ankles, suddenly deeply aware of being separated from her by only as thin fabric barrier as she undressed.
The heat that had shot through him a moment before turned into a throb of desire.