“Look. This lady has the power to ruin Aspen’s business, and she’s got melted chocolate all over her ass. I need you—I’m asking you—to let her borrow your clothes for thirty minutes while I figure out how the hell to get it out.”
Velma pursed her lips and glared at him.
“Please.” He wasn’t above begging at this point.
“Fine.” Shirt in hand, she marched toward the bathroom.
He let out a relieved breath and dialed Eli. Eli was at the reception hall kitchen, and Brek needed a favor.
“Hey,” Eli said.
Brek stared at the bathroom door, listening to his heart try to beat out of his chest, waiting for Velma. “Need a favor.”
“I have three hundred steaks we’re prepping. So now’s not a good time.” There was a decent amount of pan clanking and activity in the background.
“Need you to run somewhere and grab me a shirt. I saw a tourist shop on the way into town.”
There was a long pause.
“Three hundred steaks,” Eli said again.
Brek was cutting it short before, but now he was running out of time. “I need to preempt the steaks and call in a favor.”
“Why do you need a shirt?” Eli was not grasping the intensity of the situation.
“Don’t ask. How quick can you grab me something?” He glanced down to his bare chest. Aspen would lose her ever-loving mind if she saw him here without his shirt.
“I’m the caterer not your personal assistant.”
Enough was enough. “Remember that time you got your ass tossed in jail, and I bailed you out? Callin’ in that favor.”
Eli heaved a sigh. “Fine. The shirt for you?”
“Yeah. See if they have a dress or somethin’ for Velma, too.”
“What the hell is going on over there?”
“Said not to ask. See you in ten.”
He clicked off his phone and turned his attention back to the bathroom door. Velma came out with a stack of neatly folded clothes. His shirt barely skimmed past her thighs. The air in the room buzzed in his ears and his mouth went dry.
He may have had a pissed-off mother of the bride. He may have had a ticked-off Velma. Hell, even the dog was probably mad at him for something. But the way Velma looked in his shirt? None of the rest mattered.
“Give me your belt.” She set her clothes down and held out her hand.
“Why?”
“Because I’m giving my clothes to someone for you, and I’m wearing your shirt that barely covers my tush. I need your belt.” She made a gimme wave with her fingers.
He pulled the damn thing off. What did it matter at this point, anyway?
She took the belt and tied it around her waist. “Now at least it sort of passes for a dress.”
She was right, if one squinted and turned their head to the side.
“Eli’s on his way.” He snagged her outfit. “He’s bringing us clothes.”
“Ihaveclothes. You’re just giving them away.”
