“Nevertheless . . .”
“I’ll take care of it,” Noah said, stepping forward and clapping Josh on the shoulder. “You go spend the day with your bride-to-be. I’ll take Bart his tux.”
Megan’s mother looked dubious.
“I’d love to do it, Mrs. Vandemeer,” Noah said, using a toothpaste commercial smile that Megan was sure had gotten him more women than he could count.
“If you’re sure . . .”
Noah’s grin spread. “Well, that settles it. You two crazy kids go have fun picking up wedding dresses and getting that marriage license.” He turned slightly so Megan’s mother couldn’t see him snicker.
“We’ll see you at three thirty.” Josh tugged on Megan’s hand and dragged her toward the front door.
“Run, kids!” Gram called after them. “Escape while you can!”
“Megan!” her mother called after her. “Do not let him see your dress.”
“See you later, Mom,” she said as Josh continued out the door, not stopping until after he opened the car door for her.
“You just bowled over my mother,” Megan said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Thanks.”
His hand tightened around the edge of the car door, and his eyes darkened. “I probably should have let you handle it, but she infuriated me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Does she seriously think you need to lose weight?”
Megan looked up into his face, floored by the protectiveness radiating off him. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get the dress, then eat lunch.” She gave him a wicked grin. “I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The bridal shop was only ten minutes away, and they made an unspoken pact not to talk about their impending troubles. Megan told Josh about all the spats she and her brother used to get into as kids and how all her friends used to crush on him, Blair included.
“No offense,” Josh said in a dry tone, “but I have trouble imagining Blair developing a crush on anyone. It seems like she’d be happier if she were actually crushing them instead.”
“I told you that she wasn’t always like this. She means well.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Tell me more about growing up with your brother.”
She pulled into the bridal store parking lot, and Josh held out his hands, beaming. “Looks like my Noah stories will have to wait.”
“You can tell me at lunch.”
Josh followed her into the bridal store, holding the door open for her. The saleswoman recognized her and smiled, probably in part because her mother was nowhere in evidence. “We have your dress ready for you. Go on back to the fitting room, and I’ll bring it to you.”
Josh looked around, wariness in his eyes as he took in the racks of lace, satin, and organza dresses.
Megan laughed. “You don’t have to be in here, Josh. You can wait in the car.”
“No, I want to see you in your dress.”
“My mother specifically forbade it.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Since when do you obey your mother?”
His words caught her off guard. Her entire life had been one act of secret disobedience after the other, except for her major, impossible-to-hide decisions like running off to college and moving to Seattle. It wasn’t that she was purposely hiding her defiance. She was avoiding conflict. Megan had no problem standing up to anyone else. So why couldn’t she stand up for herself with her mother?
“Megan?” Josh asked, his smile fading.
She threw her arms around his neck. She couldn’t believe she was considering what she was considering. Was this man, whom she’d only known for two days, worth the risk? What she felt for him scared her, but the thought of losing him scared her more.
His arm tightened around her back, and his hand cupped the back of her head. “Hey, are you okay?”
She leaned back and searched his face, not even sure what she was looking for—perhaps some sign that he was right there with her, that fate really had seated them together on that plane. Could there actually be something to the fortune teller’s prediction?
“Do you want to just skip this?” he whispered, his eyes filled with worry. “It’s not like we’re really getting married.”
She forced a smile. “No. I’m just being silly.” She broke loose from his hold. “You have a seat, and I’ll show it to you.”
His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”
“Sit,” she ordered, her good mood returning. “I’ll be out after I wrestle this monster on.”
“Okay.”
She found the saleswoman in the back waiting with the crinoline skirt. “Do you have a strapless bra?”
Megan cringed. “No.”
“Not to worry. Your mother had us set one aside.”
“Of course she did,” Megan mumbled.
“You get undressed and put on the bra. Then I’ll be in to help you with the dress.”
Megan didn’t waste time disrobing and putting on the bra. The saleswoman returned moments later and helped her pull the fluffy skirt over her head.
“Tomorrow I’m sure your hair will be done, so you’ll probably want to step into the slip, but the dress will still have to go over your head.”
“Okay,” Megan said, only half listening. None of it mattered. She would never wear the dress again anyway.
The clerk removed the dress from the hanger. “Ready?” the woman asked, holding the dress toward her.
“As much as I’ll ever be.”
The clerk gave her a questioning look but kept silent.
It took several minutes to get the dress over her head and laced in the back. The clerk opened the door and helped her maneuver the massive skirt through the opening. “Are you sure you want the groom to see you?” the woman asked. “Some people believe it’s bad luck.”
“I’ve had enough bad luck to last me a lifetime. I’ll risk it.” She picked up the skirt and rounded the corner.
Josh was sitting in a chair, his legs extended and crossed at the ankles, his arms crossed over his chest. When she entered the viewing area, he sat upright, his gaze combing her from head to toe.
She stepped onto the short stage and dropped the fluffy skirt.
Josh still eyed her, his face expressionless.
Megan cocked an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”
He shook his head and stood. “The opposite of bad.”
She looked down at the massive skirt, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “I look like Cinderella . . . if she stuck her finger in the light socket just before running off to the ball to seduce Prince Charming. Now all I need is a pair of glass slippers. But it fits the princess theme, so if Knickers is happy, everyone is supposed to be.”
“But you’re not happy?”
“What does it matter? It’s not like there’s going to be a wedding anyway.”
The sales clerk, who had begun inspecting the seams on the dress, jerked her head up in surprise but refrained from comment.
“Why did you buy the dress if you hate it so much?” Josh asked.
“First of all, I don’t really hate the dress. It’s beautiful. It’s just not what I wanted. And I didn’t order it. My mother did.” She took a deep breath to keep from tearing up, but her voice still broke as she continued, “Apparently the dress I chose—the dress I love—didn’t fit in with her princess theme, so she ordered this one.”