“What do you think of this one?” Laura asked, finally appearing in a dress.
Reyna’s mouth dropped open, her argument forgotten. “Holy shit!”
Laura bounced up and down with excitement. “It’s so soft. I’ve never worn anything this dainty.”
“Brian will fall over himself at the sight of you.”
Laura tried on half a dozen more dresses while they were at the dress shop, but none compared to that first one. It was the dream dress. Magic was sewn into the fabric. It was the one, no matter how many other dresses she looked at.
“Just one more,” she said, though she fingered the soft layers of the first dress again.
She was back in the changing room with Olivia when Beckham burst into the boutique. Reyna shot to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” she asked upon seeing his face.
“We have to go.”
“What happened?”
His eyes were dark and ominous, his voice deep and barely controlled. “Everett.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“He’s back?” Reyna asked with wide eyes.
Beckham nodded once tersely. “Where’s Penelope? We need to get her out of here, too.”
“She’s not in the back?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t know. She stormed out there like an hour ago and never returned.”
His face darkened. Just then, Olivia and Laura came out of the dressing room, Laura in some poofy monstrosity. Olivia’s eyes widened when she saw Beckham.
“Pack up whichever dress she wants,” Beckham said to Olivia. “We have to leave.”
“Of course, Mr. Anderson,” Olivia said evenly. “Come on, Laura.”
Beckham frowned and glanced down at his phone.
“Did Penny message you?”
“No.” His eyes caught hers again. “Did something happen?”
“Well, it didn’t go well.”
He sighed, pocketed the phone, and nodded for her to follow him. They had barely entered the back room of the boutique when Beckham pushed her against the wall. He put his hands on either side of her head and leaned in. His lips caressed hers, and she breathed into him. It had only been a couple of days, but she had missed him.
He pulled back abruptly and stared deep into her eyes. There was something off about him, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to act or he was afraid that she might disappear.
She placed her hand on his cheek. “Hey, whatever is going on, it’ll be fine.”
“I want to take you back to Elle.”
“All right. Are you going to tell me what’s up with Everett?”
Beckham turned his head away from her palm, and she let it drop. No, she had read him wrong. This wasn’t fear or worry. This was anger. Bristling and spitting right under the surface. He was trying to control it and not let it erupt out of him. She was sure it had to do with Everett, but what could Everett have done that would make him this angry? After orchestrating her kidnapping, there couldn’t be much worse than that.
