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Shucking off my shoes, I start to undress.
My elbows jut out as I reach behind my back, grip the zipper at the nape of my neck and push it down as far as I can. When I change angles and try to get the tiny metal the rest of the way, it catches on the fabric.
I grit my teeth. “Come on. Come on.”
Nothing.
The zipper refuses to budge.
The door of the dressing room bangs open.
“Excuse me,” I call to the attendant. “Can you come help!”
Heavy footsteps charge my way.
They sound loud.
Determined.
My breath hitches in my throat. I don’t think that’s the delicate little attendant…
A moment later, the curtain flies apart and Hansley stands at the entrance of the dressing room. His hard stare traces my hair, my shocked expression and then my dress that’s gaping open halfway.
I clutch at the flapping lips of the dress. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to scold you.” He arches an eyebrow as he steps confidently in. “Need some help?”
“I’ve got it.”
He gives me a yeah right look.
“The attendant will be back in a second. I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. She already thinks…” Flames burn my cheeks. “She already thinks something that isn’t true.”
“Who said it wasn’t true?”
“I don’t like to watch.”
“Have you ever tried?”
My eyes flit away from his and drop on the mirror. “N-no, but—”
“Then you don’t know.” His lips curl up wickedly. “What you like and what you don’t.” He surveys the zipper. “You’re a lot more open-minded than you think.”
I snort. “Are you saying that because of last night?”
“Turn around.”
With a huff, I do. “Can you stop acting like last night was the real me? We were both drunk. It doesn’t count.”
“Why not? Alcohol makes you honest.”
“It made me marry a total stranger, so I don’t think it works the same on everybody.”
His fingers graze my neck as he brushes my hair aside. “We weren’t total strangers.”
“Most people don’t marry someone they’ve only met once.”
He grips the zipper. “Ever heard of mail-order brides?”
