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I slammed my hands down on my hips and glowered. “What the hell is wrong with it?”
He sputtered like his brain was trying to reengage. “It—it’s indecent! I can almost see your—” He swallowed again, pointing at my chest. I could give him that. The neckline was low, giving me some pretty nice cleavage, and the material wasthin, showing the effect that the brisk morning air was currently having. I crossed my arms over my chest to hide the headlight situation.
“And those shorts barely cover your ass!”
I let out a small growl. Mad that he’d ruined my dream before I could get to the good part—even if he was the one starring in it. Mad that this was the second morning in a row I wasn’t going to get to sleep in because my stupid best friend was such an early bird. And mad at him for insulting my frilly pajamas. When it came to my underwear and sleepwear, I didn’t play. I loved me some lacy, silky, beautiful undergarments. Unless it was that time of the month or laundry day, it was a guarantee that I had on a sexy bra with equally sexy matching panties. Even if I was lounging around in my sweats, the girly garments made me feel feminine and sexy. Same with what I slept in.
“Well, thanks for the wakeup call, dickhead. You can go now.”
His boot came out, blocking the way as I tried to slam the door shut in his face. “Sorry, Bits. No can do,” he said as he shoved his way into my house. At least he had knocked instead of using his key. If I’d woken up and padded out of my room to find him chilling in my living room or kitchen I probably would have had a heart attack. “We have things to do today, so get ready. Here.”
He shoved a coffee from Hot Java at me before grasping my shoulders and spinning me around, giving my ass a smack to get me moving.
I let out a yelp and threw an arm backward, backhanding him in return. “What do we possibly have to do today? I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to be lazy and lie around all day watchingthe Great British Bake Off.”
He sucked back some coffee from his own cup. “Later. Right now we have to go get you an engagement ring.”
That got my attention and worked wonders in changing my mood. “My ring?” I asked with a little squeal I couldn’t quite contain. “We’re going to get me a ring?”
Gage grinned and shot me a wink that made my belly summersault. “Only if you move your ass.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. I practically skipped to my room in excitement at the prospect of combining two of my favorite things into one trip. Shopping and jewelry.
“Give me ten!” I shouted as I skidded into my room and slammed my door shut. No time to be fussy about what I was going to wear, my fiancé was taking me shopping for a ring!
* * *
I stood rootedto the floor in front of the jewelry case, unable to move. Or speak. Or even breathe as Gage and the little man of indeterminate age went through a selection of diamond engagement rings.
I’d been joking when I told him to make sure it was nice. Well,mostlyjoking. But the rings he’d pointed out to the jeweler to pull out for closer inspection were just, well, ridiculous!
The panic had initially started when we pulled up to the store two towns over from Redemption. I knew the place well. Most women did. It had a reputation for being high-end, expensive, and very exclusive. I was talking can-only-shop-if-you-book-an-appointment exclusive.
Gage hummed thoughtfully, his finger tapping against his lips as he examined the selection like he might find the answer to what the meaning of life was etched into one of the massive rocks. Hell, there was definitely room on some of them.
“I don’t know. They’re good quality, but are they her?” he asked like I wasn’t standing right there beside him. In his defense, I’d basically been struck mute the moment we stepped foot inside the building, giving him a whole lot of nothing. He’d tried coaxing an opinion out of me, but every time I opened my mouth the only thing that came out was a gust of air, so he’d given up.
I was currently living my very ownSweet Home Alabamamoment, like when Patrick Dempsey had taken Reese Witherspoon to Tiffany’s to pick out an engagement ring. Only this was better because Gage was more like the Josh Lucas dude in that film, and it wasmegetting to play dress-up with all the pretty diamonds. If only I could get over the shellshock and actually enjoy it.
“Well, sir, if it’s style you’re looking for, might I suggest a few pieces we’ve only recently gotten in. A few antique rings from right around the turn of the twentieth century.”
“Perfect. I think antique is the way to go.”
“Very good, sir. If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll retrieve those pieces from the back.”
I swallowed, then swallowed again when the first one didn’t help to move the knot that had formed in my throat. My tongue came out to swipe my lower lip, but instead of wetting it, it felt like I’d dragged sandpaper across it.
I tugged at the collar of my shirt, looking around for a water cooler or something. “How does this place not have a water-cooler? You’d think with the amount people pay when they come here, they’d have offered us bottled water or something. God, my mouth is dry. Is your mouth dry?”
Gage cut off my rambling by taking my shoulders and spinning me to face him. He crouched down low enough that his penetrating gaze snared mine, those gunmetal eyes holding me captive. “Bits, I’m gonna need you to pull your shit together. We’ve been here thirty minutes and all you’ve managed to do is wheeze and laugh awkwardly.”
I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “I thought he was teasing when he told you the price of that princess cut solitaire,” I defended on a hissed whisper. “I thought it was a joke, so I laughed.”
Spoiler alert, it hadn’t been.
“What’s got you in a tizzy right now, huh? You were stoked about this before we got here.”
My jaw nearly hit the ground as I gaped at him. “Is that a serious question?”
