Page 19 of Slapshot Bride

By the time I'm done, my arms are full, and I've not picked a single thing I would have picked an hour ago.

Easton watches me carry everything toward the fitting rooms. He doesn’t say a word, but as I pass him, I catch the slightest upward tug at the corner of his mouth.

The fitting room is generous, more like a small living room than a closet, with a velvet bench and a full-length mirror set into the wall. I pull the curtain closed and start with the easy things, the t-shirt, the jeans, the cardigan. They fit. They look like clothes a normal person would wear. I feel, for thirty seconds, like a normal person.

I save the green dress for last.

It's deep emerald silk, and it has a high neckline in the front and a low scoop in the back, with a short zipper at the small of my back that I can't quite reach.

I twist and stretch, even attempting the over-the-shoulder approach, but it doesn’t work.

I stand there for a second, in a half-zipped dress, with my hair coming out of its knot, and consider my options.

“Easton.”

“Yeah.”

“I, uh.” I close my eyes. “I need help with a zipper.”

A beat.

“Are you decent?”

“Y-yeah.” I look down to be sure.

“Okay.”

I hear him stand. Hear his footsteps crossing the floor.

Why is my heart beating faster?

I pull the curtain back six inches, turn my back to it before he can see my face, and listen to him slip in.

The fitting room isn't small, exactly, but it becomes small with him in it. I feel the air change, accompanied by the warmth of someone standing a foot behind me without him touching me.

“Where?”

His voice is closer than I expect, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“There. The zip.” I point awkwardly behind me. “It’s stuck. Or it’s me. I don’t know which.”

He lets out a quiet breath. Then his fingers find the tiny zipper at my lower back.

I stop breathing.

This is stupid.

He’s helping me with a dress. That’s it.

But then he starts drawing the zipper upward, slowly and carefully, one inch at a time, and his knuckles brush my bare skin.

A gasp slips out before I can stop it.

I hope he didn’t hear.

I lift my eyes to the mirror, searching his face for any sign that he did.

Big mistake.