I know I shouldn’t look. I can’t get any fun ideas here, but I’m a weak man.
My gaze roams over her gorgeous body, lingering on her soft tan skin and long legs.
Then I notice her underwear.
I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth.
“What?” she asks, clearly catching my reaction.
“Nothing.” I shrug as I bend down to grab the pile of white fabric off the floor. “That’s just not the kind of underwear I’d expect a bride to wear on her wedding day.”
It’s a simple off-white cotton set.
Nothing wrong with it. It’s functional, but it isn’t particularly sexy.
She looks down at herself like she forgot what she put on that morning.
“Yeah,” she says with a snort. “This definitely isn’t what I would’ve worn if I actually wanted to get married.”
I nod slowly while every cell in my body screamsfuck yes, baby.
“That’ll be eighty-seven dollars and thirteen cents,” the cashier announces as I swipe my card.
The older woman behind the register eyes the two of us with open amusement while Penny balances a soda in one hand and her heels in the other.
When I look at her feet, I can’t help but grin.
Flip-flops. Cheap gas station flip-flops.
I don’t think Penélope Levine has ever worn a one-dollar pair of shoes in her life, but she still looks gorgeous as hell.
“I’ve seen some strange outfits come through here,” she says, “but I gotta say, you two take the cake.”
“Wedding gone wrong,” Penny replies easily. “One hundred percent wouldn’t recommend it.”
The cashier bursts out laughing.
Meanwhile, I'm standing there holding sandwiches, chips, and enough snacks to survive a road trip while trying not to grin like an idiot.
There are a few benches outside the station, and despite the chill in the air, it’s a gorgeous sunny day, so we decide to eat there.
“So…” I start after taking a huge bite of my Reuben.
Penny takes a long sip of her soda before releasing a slow breath.
“I’ll go into as much detail as you want,” she says quietly, her eyes trained on me. “But all that matters is that Easton’s an asshole who used my love for my family against me. He told me Dad lost the company during a poker game and threatened to expose everything. He said Dad had a serious heart condition and that stress was making it worse.” She swallows hard. “So I yes.”
Tears slip down her cheeks as she closes her eyes.
Rage builds inside me so fast my fists clench automatically beneath the table.
"You were trying to protect your family,” I say carefully as I set my sandwich down and reach for her hand. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
She exhales as her fingers intertwine with mine.
“I know that logically,” she whispers. “But I still feel terrible.”
I let her sit with it for a moment while my thumb traces lazy patterns across the back of her hand.
