I rolled my eyes.
And then suddenly, I was on my back. With no recollection of how I got there, just a view of the ceiling peering down at me with amusement, and my back feeling like I’d just gotten hit by a two by four.
“Holy shit.” Chase burst out laughing. “I choose Andi for team captain when we go to war against the Russians.”
“What…” My lungs seized as I wheezed out a breath. “…was that for?”
As Andi glanced down at me, her indifference was alarming. “You were being an ass, so I did you a favor by not only handing your ass to you, but making sure you landed on it, just in case there were any questions.” She looked around the room. “This is what happens when I get treated like less than I deserve on my only wedding day… any questions?”
“Nope.” Nixon chuckled.
“Hell no…” said Tex and Phoenix in unison.
“Just one.” Chase’s easy grin had me on edge.
The guys groaned. “What?”
He shrugged. “I just want to know how she did that so fast.”
“If you’re lucky I’ll teach you.” She winked and waltzed back through the door while I stayed on the floor, my pride bruised, my anger boiling.
The guys slowly, one by one, moved to stand over me. No hands were offered. They simply stared and, by their expressions, wanted me to try to get up just so they could set me back on my ass again.
Finally, Ax stepped through and offered his hand. When I took it, he released it then kicked me hard in the ribs. “Don’t make me kick your ass too. Go pick out some damn shoes.”
“She’s going barefoot,” I argued.
Another foot kicked me in the ribs, not hard, but it was firm enough to cause a sharp pain to throb down my side.
Nixon grunted. “Go, before I pull my gun.”
“He’d do it too.” Chase nodded somberly. “We’ve all seen enough gunshot wounds between us to prove it. Don’t make Tex or Phoenix lift their shirts. Just go make it better.”
With a grunt, I moved first to my knees, and then to my feet, rubbing my back as I slowly made my way down the hall. I knocked twice.
Trace answered, her glare murderous.
I sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Is Jackie Chan available?”
“Depends.” She crossed her arms. “Are you still an ass?”
I shifted on my feet. “Probably.”
“At least he’s honest,” Andi called from somewhere in the room.
“Trace…” My voice cracked. “…just let me through so I can apologize.”
“Amazing you know that word,” Mo said, immediately joining Trace’s side.
“Let him through,” Andi called in her sing-song voice. “I want his opinion on the dress.”
“It’s bad luck,” Mil said from the bed. “But then again, you are marrying Sergio, so…”
“Hilarious.” I flipped her off and walked farther into the room. It looked like a dress store had puked all over the place. Lace, ribbons, and veils were scattered all over the bed, the floor, and the desk. Makeup was set up on one counter, while the other one was lined with shoes from every single color of the rainbow and then some.
It was enough to send me into a seizure.
I turned around, trying to remember why I was in that specific hell in the first place, when Andi came out of the closet and held out her hands. “You like?”
My mouth dropped open before I could stop it.
Her dress was all lace. No straps, just lace around her breasts, covering what needed to be covered, leaving little to the imagination and a feast for my eyes. The lace met with heavier silky looking fabric that kissed her hips and then fell in ruffles all the way to her ankles.
I wasn’t sure how long I stared.
It was probably an embarrassing five minutes before I was able to actually form words. “It’s… nice…” I coughed into my hand. “…for a dress.”
“Wow, write me some poetry, why don’t ya?” Andi winked then twirled in front of me.
I was just about to say something mean when I noticed her steps falter. Her face paled, and she collapsed directly at my feet.
“Andi!” I grabbed her lightweight body and lifted her into my arms then walked over to the bed and set her down amidst the fluffy dresses. “Andi, can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh… sorry.” Her face reddened. “Just a bit dizzy.”
“Then don’t spin,” I said through clenched teeth.
“But it’s one of those dresses,” she argued, lifting her arms into the air. “A twirling dress. You have to twirl or you may as well not wear it.”
“Don’t twirl if you’re going to get dizzy and pass out.”
“But I must.”
“One twirl.”
“Two!” she argued, leaning up on her elbows so that our faces were nearly touching. “Please?”
We were so close I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. I tried to ignore the hypnotic pull I felt just by staring and blinked away.
“Fine.” I licked my lips, my gaze entirely too focused on her mouth, considering I was trying not to stare into her eyes. “Two twirls but go slow, no passing out.”
“Careful, Sicily, your true colors are showing.” She leaned up and whispered in my ear, “Don’t want people thinking you actually care.”