Page 84 of Merging Wright

“Alright, baby girl. You’re going down.” I rub my hands together then I lift my collection of cards for Go Fish. Willow turns to Jane who presses a reassuring hand to her back.

“He’s just competitive. We got him.” Jane winks at me and the time passes with us playing card games. Then Jane and Willow color a coloring sheet Jane printed.

Watching Jane interact with Willow has my insides all twisted up. Jane adores Willow and Willow worships Jane. And both situations have me concerned.

“Today was wonderful,” Jane says after we drop Willow off at On The Curve so Stella can watch her the remainder of the day. “You were wonderful.”

“Me?” I chuckle, wrapping an arm around her.

“You were so amazing with Willow. She’s totally smitten with you.” Jane nudges me in the ribs.

“Smitten?” I laugh.

“Hard not to be. You were so attentive, Mach. Seriously, it was like seeing another side to you.”

“The not so mean side?” Jane mentioned I could be mean when we shared our original five facts. How long ago that roadside lunch seems and yet it was barely over a month.

“The not so mean side.” Her voice fills with something I can’t read but she sounds . . . happy. Is this how I sounded to Tucker this morning? Is Jane happy with me?

“So, you wanted to show me Bliss.” Jane hired a local camera crew to do before and after shots of each business, making a video montage of our work for a future marketing campaign.

The store hasn’t been my focus, allowing Jane to do what she’d like with the place. The renovation has taken the place from borderline thrift store to elegant and chic. The interior colors are muted natural tones. The clothing is the highlight. Inspirational quotes from Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina decorate the walls as Tanza is of Russian descent. Bliss is written in a crisp, readable font that’s feminine and romantic. We’re the only ones here, giving it our final inspection before Tanza sees it tomorrow.

“I love this piece.” Jane stands before a full-length pedestal mirror in a wooden frame. Standing behind her, I love looking at her in the reflection. Her expression is almost dreamy. Is she happy? I picture her as she walked out of the dressing room and saw herself in her unique wedding dress. Did her breath hitch like mine had when I first saw her wearing it?

The thought gives me an idea. “Where’s the fitting room?”

“There isn’t one exactly. You stand there and pull the curtain around you.” Jane points to a larger mirror affixed to the wall with a semi-circular pipe near the ceiling, allowing a floor-length curtain to be dragged around the area for privacy.

I tug Jane toward the other mirror and yank the curtain around us.

She laughs. “What are you doing?”

With my fingers in her hair and my mouth on her lips, Jane has my answer. We kiss for several minutes before I pull back and stare into her eyes.

Bliss. What an appropriate name for a dress shop. Women dream of weddings, right? Tracy did. What about Jane? Our wedding wasn’t fancy. A few hours of engagement. A fifteen-minute ceremony. But that wedding night was . . . fucking out of this world.

I run a hand along her neck and dip between her breasts. She’s wearing an open jacket with a thin shirt underneath.

I could make Jane promises. Tell her I’ll make up for that rushed wedding. I could tell her how I hadn’t ever planned to marry again. Then I could say how I’m happy I did everything with her. But my throat suddenly clogs, and I can’t seem to express to Jane how I feel, so unfamiliar with the emotions rambling around inside me.

Curling my fingers into the cotton of her tee, I catch the edge of her bra underneath, and tug her closer to me. My mouth devours her, nudging her back until she presses against the fitting room mirror.

“Mach,” she mutters at my mouth. “We can’t have sex in this dress shop.”

“Yeah, we can. It’s called a dressing room. Only I’m going to undress you.”

She smiles against my lips. “It’s too risky.”

“We’re protected.” And I’m on a mission. The one where I touch her, christen another location with her in a way above and beyond the way she’s changing the town, the way she’s changing me.

“We have the place all to ourselves.” I move my mouth to her jaw and along her neck. Hooking a finger into her belt loop, I twist her to face the mirror.

Her hands catch her on the reflecting glass. “You’re so bad, Mr. Wright.”

“But I want to make you feel so good.” I nip her neck while keeping my eyes on her through the reflection. She gasps as my teeth scrape her skin, biting the tender flesh in a spot where she’ll surrender to me.

Her backside bucks, forcing her fine ass against the firm length in my jeans.