Done With Love (16 page)

“Sure it does,” Roxanna said. “If your sister can tear herself away from her Love Muffin for an evening.” There was a tug on the blankets, but I held on. “Come out of there,” Roxanna insisted.

“Oh,
sheesh
,” Gen said. “I’m not with him
all
the time.”

I whipped the blankets down to smirk at my twin. “Um, yeah, you are.” I rolled back onto my side. “I’m not in the mood for a girls’ night.” I held the blankets tight around me, hoping they’d take the hint and leave.

“You could use a couple shots of tequila,” Roxanna said.

After all the junk I’d stuffed into my face, the mere thought of tequila made my stomach quiver.

“How about a movie night instead?” Gen suggested. The bed shifted with her weight as she sat down on the edge of the mattress beside me. “I can pick up
Hope Floats.
”

“If I have to watch a romance, I’ll throw up all the cupcakes I ate. And that bagel.” I peeked from the blankets, tightening my grip on the edge. “And the French fries I had.”

Roxanna whistled. “You ate
all
of that crap today? That is disgusting.” Then she grinned. “I might be a little jealous.”

“Chili cheese fries,” I added.

“
Oohhh
, from Joe’s Burgers?” Roxanna asked.

“Yeah.” I lifted the blankets over my head again. “And I ate every bite.”

“Nice.”

“Are you two done?” Gen asked. “We have more important matters to discuss.”

“Right.” The bed shifted when Roxanna sat down near my feet. She said, “We’re getting Lexie drunk.”

“I can’t tonight. I have inventory to do early in the morning.”

“What about Friday?” Gen asked, and I sighed because it was clear she wasn’t going to leave unless I agreed to their cheer-up-Lexie plans.

“Fine.” Then I added, “No romance movies, though. I’m serious.”

“What about a kick ass vamp movie instead?” Roxanna suggested.

I perked up a little. “Really?”

“Sure. With lots of sexy hotness in it,” Roxanna said.

“Make sure there’s lots of fight scenes.” With every punch, I could imagine one of the Buchanans on the receiving end.

“Sure!” Gen said, excited I’d taken the bait. “And we’ll have wine and pasta, and we’ll badmouth your ex and his bitch mom.”

I lowered the comforter, my hair a static mess. “You’d do that for me? On a Friday? You don’t already have plans?”

“Any plans I had aren’t as important as giving my bestie violence therapy. And I’m single, remember?” Roxanna winked at me. “Chick code.”

“I love you guys,” I said, sappy and emotional and a little close to crying. “I don’t know how I’d survive without you.”

“You’d die, that’s for sure.” Roxanna gazed around my bedroom. “Or weigh so much we’d have to cut a hole in your roof and airlift you out with a helicopter. You have no concept of self control these days.”

Gen winced. “Normally, I’d say you’re being harsh, but for once, I think your no-filter-mouth might be right.”

Roxanna toed the heaping full laundry basket at her feet. “I don’t know who you are, but you ate my bestie, and I want her back.”

Gen wrinkled her nose at the towels hanging on the master bath door. “It’s like you were abducted by aliens or something.”

I was pretty sure the alien abduction part was a joke. Maybe. Her obsession with aliens was a bit over the top. But who was I to judge? I wasn’t exactly all there lately. I could hear the worry in both of their voices, and I understood where they were coming from—I worried about me too.

I’d never been so lost before. What bothered me the most was the realization that I’d wasted so much of my life pasting magazine cutouts into scrapbooks, obsessively planning my future wedding to prince charming, only to learn there was no such thing as a prince charming or fairytale endings.
So, so stupid.

I really had no place selling wedding gowns to glowing-eyed brides-to-be. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. All I could think about was how Deborah had made me into the very person she’d warned everyone against. She wasn’t just putting me out of business, she wanted to ruin my dreams.

I was broken. That bitch had broken me.

I peeked out of the covers at Roxanna. “By Friday, I’m going to need lots of wine. Get two bottles, please.”

Roxanna adjusted her scarf as she headed for my bedroom door. “I’ll get three, just in case.”

The bell above the boutique door jingled, but I didn’t get up from where I lay sprawled out on the floor. Whoever had walked in wouldn’t be a customer, anyway. There hadn’t been a walk-in for two days. It was probably one of my sisters, and in that case, I was perfectly fine right here.

I kept my eyes closed and clasped the gown to my chest. There was still a hint of the perfume I’d worn on my wedding day clinging to the fabric, even though it’d been hanging in a bag for almost three months now. Yeah, I’d kept it. Not because I sat around pining for my wimp of an ex-fiancé and what-might-have-been, but because the damn thing cost a fortune. I considered burning it. Maybe if I did, it would sever some kind of supernatural bond between me and the Buchanans. Deborah was evil—I wouldn’t doubt if she’d cursed the dress.

I lay there, covered in tulle and gold embroidered beaded lace, a gown I’d fallen in love with at first sight in Manhattan. The trip and the dress had been a gift from Jeremy’s parents. I’d felt so, so loved in that moment, a happy bride-to-be with starry eyes and hopeful dreams. Little had I known, the dress had been purchased with the sole purpose of blinding me with kindness before ambushing me with an ultimatum.
Evil bastards, all of them.

I had spent the morning crunching numbers again, just in case by some miracle there’d been something I’d missed. I hadn’t, though. The results were always the same, so my mood was foul, my attitude sucked, and my stomach was filled full of knots the size of fists.

Today was Michelle’s day off, and being alone in a boutique with ominous financial figures dancing in my head had driven me to open a bottle of Merlot around noontime. The half empty bottle sat on the floor a few feet away from the pile of bridesmaids’ dresses I’d yanked from the racks—they were under me, around me, cocooning me.
Kind of like a comfy little doggie bed.
Mitzy was in doggie heaven, curled up beside me.

“It’s Leo.”

My eyes snapped open at the deep timbre of his voice, one I hadn’t heard in two months, but I’d been dreaming about almost every night. I only visited Roxanna at her house if I knew he wouldn’t be around—he was too much temptation. Just hearing his voice made my insides tingle.

I lifted my head. My eyes soaked up all six foot three inches of hard muscle draped in a dark grey sweater and faded jeans slung low on his hips, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Drop dead sexy gorgeous as always.

I glared at him.

His unwavering gaze and sinfully sexy smile unnerved me. I didn’t need him strutting around, making my elbows and knees weak, my heartbeat erratic. The effect was similar to climbing a tall, unbalanced ladder. Oh yes, I had fallen for Leo’s charms once before. But this older version of me knew all about the hard knocks of love and life. I knew better now. Yet there I was, lying on the floor, my pulse racing as if I’d just finished a two hundred meter dash.

What the hell was that all about? I wasn’t
in the mood
for it. I was in the mood for revenge-plotting against the Buchanans, for self-pity pouting over my sad state of affairs, for hating all men except for my dad. I had no
time
for some beefcake, egotistical,
annoying
man like Leonardo Jonathan Moss. I squinted up at him through the light pouring in the window, illuminating him like some kind of angel. But he wasn’t an angel. He was a weakness.
My weakness—the beast.

“Yeah,” Leo said into his cell phone, a bemused expression on his face as he took in the sight of me lying on the floor, smothered in colors upon colors of gowns. “You should get down here. Lex is…a mess.”

“I
am
a mess, and it’s none of your damn business.” I laid my head back again and closed my eyes. “Why in the hell are you here, anyway?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay until you get here. But hurry up.” His voice was tinged with laughter. “She’s being mean to me.”

Another annoyance—he enjoyed laughing at me. Perfect. Men were ruthless. Jerks, all of them. I had a niggling suspicion he knew just how much his smile affected me, which would explain why he flashed it so much.
He’s taunting me.
The man was dangerous—my nerve-endings were already prickled with awareness.

I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t look at his gorgeous face.

“If you don’t want me to be mean to you, then go away,” I said. “But before you go, pass me the bottle of wine, will you?”

No answer. Nothing. I decided to ignore him.

My cute little shop no longer looked like an upscale bridal boutique. Mostly, it looked as if it’d been ransacked by a crazy person. Most guys would have had a few words to say about the mess. But not Leo, Mr. Special Forces, who was always so calm and put together.

He was so
irritating.

“
Hello?
Wine?” I finally asked, just to get a reaction out of him.

He didn’t answer.

I had to squeeze my lids together so I wouldn’t peek. Because I wanted to. Peek, that is
. All his fault, too
. He was the one who looked so good. Like forbidden fruit. Despite my hatred for all things male, I happened to like the view. It had a lot to do with his lips—his sinfully sexy lips.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed so they wouldn’t drink up the view like a woman deprived of water.

“I’m not staring at you. I’m reading emails.” Then he added, “I don’t have time for your tantrums.”

He sounded indifferent, and this stoked a smoldering flame.

I sat up and clutched the beautiful wedding gown to my chest. I glared at him while I struggled to my knees. My legs were caught up in the dresses under me and I yanked at them, irritated, losing the remainder of my cool.

“I don’t
need
you to check up on me, Leonardo Moss. And I don’t
need
you to sit in the corner and look at me like I’m some kind of
crazy person!”

He raised his brows.

Okay, so maybe I was just a little bit crazy. This was all Deborah Buchanan’s fault. I had no doubt she was at this very moment toasting to my professional demise with an expensive glass of champagne, reveling in it, savoring it—
spiteful bitch.

“I’m not here because I want to be, Princess.”

He ignored me and continued reading emails off his cell phone. A stab of some emotion a lot like disappointment crept in and poked me right under the ribcage. I scrambled to my feet, tripping over lace, but caught myself before I fell on my ass.

“Great, so you can just waltz all that muscle right out the door.” I glanced around me for something to throw at him—I didn’t even have a shoe. I’d left my heels behind the counter in the far corner of the room.

He met my glare with a blank expression, so I raised my chin for good measure. I had to hold back sticking out my tongue—a challenge since sticking out my tongue seemed like the perfect response to his indifference. I hadn’t meant to drink so much wine, but it had gone down so easy. It was after I’d reached the bottle half-empty point when I’d gone in search of my pretty wedding gown.

With the gown in my arms, I went back to the front of the boutique to hang it up and scrutinize it. That’s when the red bridesmaid’s dress caught my eye. The dress had been on display since October. During a healthier time at the boutique, the dress would’ve been sold by now. So, I swigged straight from the bottle while I pulled dated dresses from their hangers and dropped them on the floor. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

“
What?
” I demanded.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, my ass,” I huffed, my dress still clutched to my chest. “You may as well just tell me what the hell you’re thinking. Inquiring minds want to freakin’ know.”

“Inquiring minds?” He was amused again, and I wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, me.” I dropped the gown and put my hands on the hips of my navy slacks. “I’m an inquiring mind, and you need to tell me what the hell’s so funny.” After a few seconds of him staring at me, silent and unimpressed, I added, “Meathead.”

“Meathead, huh?”

That’s it?
That’s all he had to say? I glared at him. “Meathead, musclehead, whatever you prefer.”

He crossed his arms. “
Oh,
you mean you’re enamored by all my
muscle.
Now I understand.”

I rolled my eyes because his were crinkled with laughter. “Whatever, I’m not big on muscles.”

He grinned. “Liar.”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “Muscles are—” I couldn’t think of anything insulting to say. His body was gorgeous, and we both knew it. I ended up with, “—obnoxious. And I gave up meatheads for good. My New Year’s resolution, thank you very much.”

He sauntered over to me, and my breath caught. He didn’t stop until we were toe to toe. I had to look up at him because he was almost a foot taller than me. Being this near to him made me dizzy. Either that or it was the wine.
Definitely the wine
.