landed on his motorcycle and I sighed dramatically. "You are woefully under prepared today, my fiancé."
"You are correct, my fiancée," he answered with a huge grin on his face. "And P.S.— you're driving the wrong way if you're going to the bridal shop."
"I know that," I said. "I knew you were working this stretch this morning. I was hoping to get arrested and felt up by a sexy sheriff."
"As appealing as that sounds—and trust me it's appealing," he said as he pressed his painfully hard lower half against me. "I actually am working at the moment and you have an appointment. Please tell me you have a change of clothes in the car."
"Nope. Can't tell you that," I said as I slid to the ground, wiggling all the way. "As long as I'm not bent over a car my ass will feel no wind."
Hank ran his hand through his hair in frustration and backed me up against the passenger door. "Who will be at your fitting?"
"Granny, Dwayne and the bridal shop gals," I said, knowing he would be fine with that crew. Granny was my Granny and Dwayne was my three hundred year old gay Vampyre best friend.
"Species?"
"Of the shop gals?" I asked.
"Yep."
"It's Lori and Layla. They're Were Weasels," I told him as I bent over far more than necessary to get back in my car.
"You're killing me, Essie," he growled. His wolf was close to the surface and I was so turned on I needed to get the hell out of Dodge before I took him on the hood of my car.
"I know, Hank," I shot back. "It's my job."
"Be careful, my little Werewolf," he said as he gave me one last scorching kiss.
"Careful is my middle name," I said as I gunned the engine of my small piece of crap and peeled out.
Through my rearview mirror I spotted the love of my life and I giggled. His hands were in his hair and he was looking up to the Heavens like he was praying.
***
"Oh my God, I look fabu," Dwayne squealed as he pranced around the bridal shop wearing a full-on princess wedding gown with a sequined bodice.
The Were Weasels, Lori and Layla, who owed Bring on the Bride were speechless. Actually I was speechless too. Almost. We'd been here for three hours and I was ready to punch somebody in the head.
"Um, is he planning on buying that?" Lori whispered to me as we watched him defy gravity, do a leap across the room and land in the splits.
"Hell if I know," I muttered. "Dwayne?"
"Yes, doll?" he asked as he gracefully rolled out of the splits and hopped to his feet.
"You gonna buy that dress?"
"Do you think I should? White's not really my color, but I love what this neckline does for my pecs." He examined himself critically in the trio of full-length mirrors.
"First of all," I snapped. "We're here for me. You are not getting married—I am. You have tried on fourteen dresses. I have tried on two. There is something wrong with this picture."
"Oh honey, let him be," my granny said without looking up as she played Scrabble on her phone. "How often is Dwayne going to be allowed to go in a store and try on wedding dresses without getting arrested? Son of a bitch," she shouted and slapped her phone. "This Scrabble bastard cheats. What in the hell is a zyzzyva ? Total bullshit word. I tell you what… I'm gonna find him and skin him alive.
"I thought you played with the computer," I said, slightly confused.
"I do."
"Alrighty then." I pressed the bridge of my nose and wondered how refocus the attention back onto myself… where it was supposed to be to start with. "Dwayne, remove the dress. I'm not wearing white, so neither are you."
Granny's eyes narrowed dangerously and I scooted away. "What color you wearin', sugar plum?" she asked in a deadly quiet voice.
I debated telling her. We were in public and I hoped that would mean I wouldn't get my butt handed to me when I sprung the color on her.
"Granny," Dwayne interrupted my inner debate. "Just in case you didn't
"You are correct, my fiancée," he answered with a huge grin on his face. "And P.S.— you're driving the wrong way if you're going to the bridal shop."
"I know that," I said. "I knew you were working this stretch this morning. I was hoping to get arrested and felt up by a sexy sheriff."
"As appealing as that sounds—and trust me it's appealing," he said as he pressed his painfully hard lower half against me. "I actually am working at the moment and you have an appointment. Please tell me you have a change of clothes in the car."
"Nope. Can't tell you that," I said as I slid to the ground, wiggling all the way. "As long as I'm not bent over a car my ass will feel no wind."
Hank ran his hand through his hair in frustration and backed me up against the passenger door. "Who will be at your fitting?"
"Granny, Dwayne and the bridal shop gals," I said, knowing he would be fine with that crew. Granny was my Granny and Dwayne was my three hundred year old gay Vampyre best friend.
"Species?"
"Of the shop gals?" I asked.
"Yep."
"It's Lori and Layla. They're Were Weasels," I told him as I bent over far more than necessary to get back in my car.
"You're killing me, Essie," he growled. His wolf was close to the surface and I was so turned on I needed to get the hell out of Dodge before I took him on the hood of my car.
"I know, Hank," I shot back. "It's my job."
"Be careful, my little Werewolf," he said as he gave me one last scorching kiss.
"Careful is my middle name," I said as I gunned the engine of my small piece of crap and peeled out.
Through my rearview mirror I spotted the love of my life and I giggled. His hands were in his hair and he was looking up to the Heavens like he was praying.
***
"Oh my God, I look fabu," Dwayne squealed as he pranced around the bridal shop wearing a full-on princess wedding gown with a sequined bodice.
The Were Weasels, Lori and Layla, who owed Bring on the Bride were speechless. Actually I was speechless too. Almost. We'd been here for three hours and I was ready to punch somebody in the head.
"Um, is he planning on buying that?" Lori whispered to me as we watched him defy gravity, do a leap across the room and land in the splits.
"Hell if I know," I muttered. "Dwayne?"
"Yes, doll?" he asked as he gracefully rolled out of the splits and hopped to his feet.
"You gonna buy that dress?"
"Do you think I should? White's not really my color, but I love what this neckline does for my pecs." He examined himself critically in the trio of full-length mirrors.
"First of all," I snapped. "We're here for me. You are not getting married—I am. You have tried on fourteen dresses. I have tried on two. There is something wrong with this picture."
"Oh honey, let him be," my granny said without looking up as she played Scrabble on her phone. "How often is Dwayne going to be allowed to go in a store and try on wedding dresses without getting arrested? Son of a bitch," she shouted and slapped her phone. "This Scrabble bastard cheats. What in the hell is a zyzzyva ? Total bullshit word. I tell you what… I'm gonna find him and skin him alive.
"I thought you played with the computer," I said, slightly confused.
"I do."
"Alrighty then." I pressed the bridge of my nose and wondered how refocus the attention back onto myself… where it was supposed to be to start with. "Dwayne, remove the dress. I'm not wearing white, so neither are you."
Granny's eyes narrowed dangerously and I scooted away. "What color you wearin', sugar plum?" she asked in a deadly quiet voice.
I debated telling her. We were in public and I hoped that would mean I wouldn't get my butt handed to me when I sprung the color on her.
"Granny," Dwayne interrupted my inner debate. "Just in case you didn't
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