Page 18 of Their Tracked Obsession

Another knock.

Fucking shit-balls.

I glared at Saint and whispered, “Get ready.”

“For what?” Saint mouthed with a confused as fuck face.

I opened the door. The male employee on the other side had a fist up, ready to knock again, but he stared back at us two fuckers inside. One with high-heeled boots on and the other who was desperately attempting to zip up a boot.

“What the—” I grabbed him by his pretty pink shirt and pulled his ass into the dressing room.

The door closed behind him, and I heaved him up against the wall.

“Sh…” I shushed him with a finger against my mouth. “Be quiet.”

The cramped fitting room was now lit up in pink. Blush reflected off the white walls, and even his pink-tinted glasses fell onto the crook of his nose. He was sweating.

Good. He was nervous. Exactly how I needed him to be to make him do as I instructed.

Saint got the damn boot on but stomped the heel against the ground.

Liv questioned the sounds coming from our fitting room. I shot a glare at Saint, and my hair fell into my line of sight. I could strangle my best friend if he didn’t look so damn remorseful since he got us caught red-handed.

Almost.

Crap. Now what?

Wait a minute.

This flamboyant dude would come in handy. Him with his neat-as-fuck goatee and slicked-back hair with pink tips. He wore a ton of makeup and smelled like a fresh fucking flower. The scent was overwhelming and tickled my nose, but I didn’t back off him because we needed his help.

“Answer her. Calmly,” I whispered and eased my forearm up against his collarbone. “Now.”

The pretty boy was hesitant, but he obeyed. He gave a lame-ass excuse, but an answer which made sense for our particular screwed-up situation. Liv didn’t question further.

Whew. Close one.

“What are you—” I pressed my hand against his mouth to silence him because I could hear distress from next door.

“… I don’t know, Raven. I don’t feel like myself in any of these dresses.” Liv sighed in defeat. “An all-white gown isn’t what I pictured myself wearing walking down the aisle on my wedding day, but I don’t want to upset my mom.”

Gloria must be out of the changing room and searching for more white frilly crap Liv didn’t want. Her mom was stubborn and Liv took too much shit to appease her. Hopefully, Raven would talk some damn sense into Liv because we couldn’t help her, but my heart hurt for my obsession.

Bruised with conflicting agony. Ached to assist Liv and be there for her. Throbbed to touch her and give her the entire world she rightfully deserved.

Saint pressed an ear up against the wall with his hand covering it. His eyes locked on mine and swirled with the same sorrow I had. We wanted to tear this fucking wall down and hold her sandwiched between us. Stroke her hair, whisper sweet nothings to her and make the world justifiably hers.

“Liv. This is your big day. Not Gloria’s. She will understand,” Raven encouraged, and I pictured her shrugging. “If not? Who gives a shit?”

Liv giggled, but her amusement was brief as she replied, “I don’t know.”

Fuck this. To hell with Gloria and her overbearing behavior. Sure. She’d become my mother-in-law, but Liv was going to be our wife. She triumphed over all, and her well-being came first. We had to do something.

I stared straight into the pretty boy’s wide eyes. “Listen to me good. I want you to bring the woman next to us the best untraditional wedding dresses you have.”

“Get your hands off me. This is couture.” He shoved me backward and shooed me with the backs of his hands. “Move aside. I don’t take kindly to demands.”

I stumbled into Saint, and my best friend caught me before we banged into the wall. Stunned was an understatement because I had my ass handed to me thanks to the pretty boy in front of me. I fixed my leather jacket and flipped up the collar.