The Love Wager by Lynn Painter

            Suddenly, Jack was right beside her. She felt his presence before she saw him, and she smiled up at him as he reached out a hand and tugged on one of the hat’s dangling strings.

            “I like it,” he said, looking at her in a way that seemed obscene in public. His eyes didn’t waver from hers, and the heat in them nearly scorched her irises. She didn’t even know how to respond. He turned his attention to the sales guy and said, “We’ll take it.”

            They moved to the cash register, and as soon as Jack paid for the hat, he maneuvered her through the small store and into a changing room. “I think I see a relative.”

            “You need a number for the changing room,” the sales guy shouted.

            Before she could say a word, the door closed and Jack’s mouth was on hers, feeding her wild kisses that made her pulse beat hard as his hands rested on the wall on either side of her face. The mirror was at her back as he pressed against her—every hard bit of him—and she kissed back with as much hunger as she felt from him.

            He cursed against her lips and raised his head. He gave her a dirty grin and said, “I think they’re gone.”

            “You sure?” She raised her thumb and dragged it over his lower lip. Had it always been this full? “I mean, they could still be lurking.”

            His eyes were heavy-lidded as he lightly bit down on her finger—wow, how did that feel hot—and then took a step back from her. He dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m afraid your boyfriend out there’s gonna call the cops on us, and your sister will kill us if we get arrested.”

            “Oh, yeah.” She kept forgetting about the wedding. “What time is it?”

            He glanced at his watch. “5:05.”

            “We should probably head back so we can shower and get ready for the rehearsal.”

            “After one more coffee stout at the brewery . . . ?”

            “Fine.” She rolled her eyes and said, “You better chug, though, because it takes a long time to make this girl look presentable.”

            “Just wear the hat and call it good. The guy is right—makes your gorgeous greens pop.”

            “On that note,” she said as they left the fitting room and walked toward the exit, “can you please not interrupt next time I’m being complimented by a bro? I might’ve gotten lucky if you hadn’t stepped in.”

            He messed up her hair and put his arm around her neck. “Sorry, my bad.”

            After they got back, Jack decided to go work out. That way, he said, she could have the room to herself for an hour to get ready before he needed to shower.

            “You sure?” She crossed her arms and watched as he grabbed running shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. “I was kidding—I can get ready pretty fast.”

            “I’m dying to get in a quick mountain run,” he said, walking toward the bathroom. “And I need to lift. I can get ready for dinner in fifteen minutes, so the timing will be perfect.”

            After he left, Hallie took a long, luxurious shower. She was having the time of her life playing boyfriend/girlfriend with Jack, and she wished the weekend would never end.

            Part of her felt like she should slow down and examine the “why” of her enjoyment, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her mind.

            Hallie did her hair and then applied some eye shadow for a smoky eye look while half watching a Top Chef marathon. When she was finished, she steamed a few wrinkles out of her dress and put it on.

            Her sister, the attention whore, was having all the bridesmaids wear white to the rehearsal, while she wore a scarlet gown, and then the colors would be flipped for the wedding. She’d been obsessed with the idea since Taylor’s version of Red came out, and she’d found a man who was all-in on her theatrical side. It would be amazing for the photos, but since it was her sister, Hallie just considered it annoying and melodramatic.

            She did love her dress, though.

            It was long and white, a flowy fabric that hugged her body but wasn’t stuck to it. One shoulder had a white ruffle that cut diagonally to her waist, while the other shoulder was bare. Hallie thought it looked like something she’d wear to one of Diddy’s white parties if she were famous enough to be invited, if he still did those . . . and, now that she was thinking about it, if he was even still called that.