Page 86 of In Every Chapter

“No, it isn’t,” I whispered, tucking my feet under the covers and settling back against the pillow. “I miss you, too. How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, a couple banged fingers, whiny clients, and all that. How about you?”

“I tried on more dresses than I could wear in a lifetime.” I laughed. “But Steph found her dress, so we were successful.”

“Juliet sent me a picture.”

“Of Steph’s dress?”

Greyson laughed, low and rumbly. “No, of you in a dress. You looked good.” He cleared his throat. “Great actually.”

My face heated. “Please tell me it was not the ball gown monstrosity.”

“Uh . . . There was lace and it was . . . poofy?”

I snorted, covering my mouth, trying not to disturb Stephanie in the next room. “That describes about half of what I tried on. But I’m glad it wasn’t the ball gown. I looked ridiculous.”

Greyson hummed. “I doubt it.”

Flustered, I blurted out. “What happened to your fingers?”

“I was distracted by a picture of a pretty woman in a pretty dress. Hard to keep my mind on work with that image in my head.”

I giggled, and I could practically feel Greyson’s smug smile over the line. We chatted a little longer. I told him about the next day’s plans for the bridal shower. Then he told me about the shop and hanging out with Cal and Khia that evening until his soothing voice eased me right into dreamland.

Chapter thirty-six

Greyson

Rosie huffed softly as a truck parked outside. Drying my hands on a hand towel, I strode over to the front door and threw it open wide.

Myles and Juliet were backing out of the driveway, and Paisley was there on the front porch—hand raised to knock, eyes bright, smile tired. She walked straight into my arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” she whispered into my chest, letting me hold her. The door closed softly behind her.

“Not as good as you do,” I teased. “I need a shower. I just came in from the shop.”

She laughed, squeezing me tighter. “I like you a little messy.”

Warmth flooded my veins. “Have I mentioned how much I missed you?” I said into her hair. She’d only been gone for four days, but it still felt like a lifetime.

“You? Big tough guy?”

I chuckled. “I’ve got an image to protect.”

Leaning back, she surveyed me with a smile. “And tough guys can’t be cinnamon rolls, huh? I think we call them alpha rolls. Or burnt rolls.” She shuddered. “Scratch that. No burnt things, please and thanks.”

“I’ve always been a goner for you, Pais. No hiding it.” I tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Then I leaned forward, and she pressed her hands to my chest, rocking up on her toes.

Her lips were a gossamer touch, like a butterfly. Until the doorbell blared behind us.

“If it’s one of my brothers, I will punch him,” I growled, yanking the door open.

For the good of all the Satterfield brothers, it was only Juliet. She held up Paisley’s purse, giving it a little shake.

“Oops.” Paisley took the bag from her. “Sorry about that. I swear I was getting better, but clearly not.”

Juliet’s knowing gaze shifted between us, and she smirked. “I’ll let you get back to whatever I interrupted. Later.” With a two-finger wave, she tromped down the stairs.