Thousand Yard Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

Hunter out of the corner of my eye. He was stifling a small grin at my quiet moans of pleasure.
    “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
    “I could get used to this,” I said between bites.
    "Hang with me and you'll see what it's like to be pampered," he said, tucking one earbud back in. I was close to feeling regret—he was going to shut me out again—when I realized he'd slid one bud in.
    The other hung in his lap, leaving his ear open to me. Like he wanted to hear me speak.
    Or maybe . . .
    Just hear me moan as I ate my food.
    Either way, I felt better.
    Almost six hours later, we touched down at LAX. As we stepped off the plane, someone handed him a wardrobe bag. He hooked it over his shoulder, leading me out on the tarmac and to yet another limo.
    Hunter said, “You know this event is fancy, right? A dress-to-impress sort of deal? It’s at The Standard.”
    I hadn’t had a chance to pack, not knowing that I was about to be whisked directly from a meeting to an event across the country. It was almost like Hunter’s parents were setting me up to fail.
    Eyeing his wardrobe bag, I grimaced. I didn't know what The Standard was, but he said it was fancy . . . . Figuring the best way to prove myself Hunter’s equal was to appear to be in control at all times, I said, “Don't worry about me. I just need to make a quick stop. I’ll meet you there.”
    He squinted at me dubiously. Even with a wrinkled forehead, he still looked great. "You'll meet me? You're sure?"
    "Of course, it'll be fine!" I put on my best I’ve-got-this-covered smile and even did a silly wink. The instant the limo drove off with Hunter in it, I panic-texted my sister. I tapped out: I AM SO SCREWED. I need a ‘dress to impress’ dress for a party at The Standard, and I have no idea where to look. LOS ANGELES!!! What is my life?
    Lanie texted back: LA? Cool! I just Googled. There’s a trendy boutique near The Standard called Lace Park. It closes in ten minutes, but I just called and the manager says they’ll stay open for an extra half hour. Uber there ASAP.
    I sent her a smiley face. You’re a lifesaver
    Lanie responded: You can do this, Jo. Make sure you pick a good dress. Black, short, and strappy is your friend.
    I kept my fingers crossed that Hunter wouldn’t get into too much trouble during the time I Uber'd to the shop. What could he possibly fuck up in fifteen minutes?
    I decided to hurry, anyway.
    The second I stepped inside, I knew I was out of my element. I didn't feel comfortable in this kind of shop around these kinds of dresses, which were as artfully arranged as museum pieces.
    I was much more used to department store suits and workout gear for climbing. Most of the dresses in my closet at home were a few years old. I was terribly out of date, my only references were the crazy outfits celebrities wore to Galas and the like.
    I froze in the doorway, breaking into a cold sweat and trying to decide if I should call Lanie in panic mode or just make a run for it. Thankfully, a peppy young shop girl with teak skin, layers of gold jewelry, and the brightest smile I’d ever seen rushed to my aid. “Hey there! Welcome! Are you Jo?”
    “Yes!” I accidentally shouted back in my relief. Then: "Wait, you know who I am?"
    “Your sister called, she said you'd be coming and to look for—what did she say?" She tapped her chin. "Something like 'the woman who looks terrified.'"
    Oh, good ol' Lanie. "That's me," I mumbled.
    "She told us you needed some wardrobe nine-one-one. What’s the occasion?”
    “I need a dress for a fancy cocktail event,” I babbled. “I’ve been told to get something black, short, and strappy. That’s all I know. Help.”
    “It’s your lucky day,” the shop girl continued with enthusiasm. “We just got something perfect in, black silk and just a little bit of lace."
    My rapid pulse finally slowed as I realized what excellent hands I was in. The shop girl whisked herself away and returned with a black, fitted,