Page 57 of Wag More Bark Less

“Hold still,” I said, slipping the blade between the satin and her bare back.

I yanked the blade toward me, and the fabric tore easily. I used my hands to rip it free the rest of the way, beads flying, until, at last, Maggie sagged in relief.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up and wiping at the moisture under her eyes, smudging her mascara further. “I didn’t want to die in this damn dress.”

“I’m sorry I had to tear it. I know someone who can fix it. I can give Carlos a call. He’s the best⁠—”

“It can’t be fixed,” Maggie said, hiccupping a laugh as she wiped again at her red-rimmed eyes. “It’s my fault for putting it on. This whole thing is my fault.”

Fresh tears trailed down her cheeks, and I averted my gaze like the asshole I was because I was fighting the overwhelming impulse to tug her into my arms. But with that bodice so loose and my head clearly not on straight, I couldn’t risk what might happen. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

I stared at the dress instead, and it was then the scene before me truly came into focus.

This wasn’t just Maggie trapped in a wedding dress—it was a fucking horror scene. The dress was torn in multiple places, as though someone had intentionally shredded the fabric. There were so many stray threads and loose stitches it almost looked like part of the design. More than half the beading was crushed or outright missing. The damage I did to the back of the dress was minimal compared to what happened to the rest of it.

“What the hell happened to your dress?”

“I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a wedding,” she said flatly, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Mission accomplished.”

My chest tightened, and those earlier images assaulted me all over again, this time with the internal volume knob cranked high.

You’re going to absolutely die when you see me! Raquel’s voice taunted me. This town will be talking about our wedding for decades.

My throat tightened, and I reached a hand to it, trying desperately to rub the sensation away.

“Luke?” Maggie asked, reaching a hand to my forearm.

Somewhere in the ambush playing out in mind, she managed to get to her feet without my help. She held the loose bodice with one hand, but it wasn’t enough to hide the soft curve of her breasts peeking out from the sides of it. I had to get the fuck out of here, because nothing made any sense. How could I want this woman and hate her so much in the same moment?

You don’t hate Maggie, dumbass.

But I didn’t know her. That much was clear.

“You sabotaged your own wedding?” I asked in a low growl, still battling the chatter in my brain from the wedding guests that day.

The panic, the concern. The fucking pity. I could stomach a lot from well-meaning people, but the pity made me see red.

“Are you okay?”

I looked at her then, but it wasn’t Maggie’s face I saw. It was Raquel, smiling up at me as though she knew something I didn’t. Had she been planning to embarrass me this whole while?

I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a wedding.

That was Maggie’s voice.

Maggie’s words.

I pitied the man she jilted, and that pissed me off even more.

“Did you leave him standing at the altar with a church full of people?”

Maggie flinched as though I’d slapped her.

“Luke, stop,” Maggie said, her tone low and firm. “This obviously isn’t about me.”

A voice whispered in the back of my ear to shut the fuck up, but I didn’t listen to it.

“Did you make him explain to all your guests that there wouldn’t be a wedding because you were too much of a coward to do it yourself?”