Ashley pulled back the phone and stared at it. She really was a doormat, and apparently she was the last person in Walker Beach to realize it.
After shooting an email back to the invitation printer approving the proof for Ben and Bella’s wedding, she placed a quick call to Brenda’s Bridal Boutique. Three hours later, Ashley was headed out the door for an early-evening appointment to get fitted for another woman’s wedding dress. Once she walked through the door, the bridal stylist and owner, Brenda, handed her a puffy white garment bag and pointed her toward a fitting room.
Ashley stepped inside and unzipped the bag, pulling back the edges to reveal a gorgeous sheath dress with see-through sleeves, all of it covered in what she guessed was Calais lace. Disrobing, she then shimmied into the tight number, which hugged her upper half and then flowed off her hips into an elegant sweep train that pooled behind her. There was a bit of gaping under the arms, but maybe that would change once she had the stylist button it. Ashley placed a hand over the lace neckline, which revealed more than she’d normally have been comfortable with. But in this case, the effect was less Kim Kardashian and more Kate Middleton.
It wasn’t what Ashley would have chosen for herself—probably something strappy, high waisted, and simple—but Claire had chosen well.
Holding up the top part of the dress, Ashley left the changing room. Brenda helped her get buttoned, then directed her to stand on a small round dais ringed with mirrors. Other than her, Brenda, and the seamstress, there didn’t appear to be anyone else in the store. Thank goodness, or the Walker Beach rumor mill would be having a field day trying to figure out who Ashley Baker was marrying.
The seamstress came out with a cushion full of pins. Her cat-eye glasses glinted under the bright lights as she got to work straightening out the train.
Ashley swung her hair around the front and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes raked across the dress, which opened to reveal Ashley’s bare back.
Claire would look perfect.
Ashley’s legs began to tremble as the seamstress tucked and pinned for what seemed like an hour. In the background, the bell over the door rang and she heard Brenda talking to someone. Great. Maybe Carlotta Jenkins and the rest of Walker Beach would have their fill of gossip today after all.
Finally, the seamstress pulled back, her expert eyes assessing her handiwork. She nodded. “You are done. Please remove the dress very carefully.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
The seamstress turned and clucked. “Are you the groom? Shame on you for looking! It’s bad luck, you know.”
Ashley whipped around and nearly toppled from the dais. Derek stood off to the side, jaw tight, a tuxedo bag slung over his shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Ashley ran her hands down the lacy bodice, then stopped as Derek’s hypnotic gaze followed the motion.
She forced a laugh. “I’m not sure it counts if he’s just seeing the dress, not the bride.”
The seamstress lifted an eyebrow as she glanced between Derek and Ashley. “Could have fooled me.” She walked off, muttering to herself.
“What are you doing here?” He strode toward her, stopping at the edge of the dais. For a moment, they were the same height, their faces inches apart.
“Claire asked me to come in for alterations, since we’re the same size. No biggie.”
“Right.” He grunted the word. “No biggie.”
Was he mad at her for trying on Claire’s dress? They hadn’t spoken since their argument on Saturday night, and maybe this was one more thing he’d hold against her. Other feelings aside, she still had to live in this town with him after he was married—assuming he and Claire stayed put.
Ashley lifted the hem of the gown and stepped down. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for the other night. You can marry whoever you want. And as your friend, I should support you. So.” She stuck out her hand. “Friends?”
The air crackled as he blinked, like snapping out of some trance.
“Yeah, sure.” His fingers closed around her palm. “Friends.”
Friends?
Baloney.
He was still in love with Ashley Baker.
The revelation had smacked him like a two-by-four the second he’d seen her in that wedding dress, and he still felt numb from the hit while he stood outside the dressing room as she changed back into her normal clothes and flip-flops.
A stronger man would leave, but he stayed, leaning against the wall. Waiting. He took the opportunity to get his head on straight.
Because, despite his deeper emotions, they were friends. Had been for years. Definitely he could choose to focus on that fact.
Probably, at least.
Ashley emerged, eyes bright and hair worn back.
Friends. Friends.
She pulled up short. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“Thought I could walk you wherever you’re going next.” He shrugged. “It’s dark out.” Real smooth.
“It’s Walker Beach.” A smile teased her mouth. “But I appreciate the thought.” She headed out the door and he followed, the cool air a welcome relief after the heat he’d encountered in the bridal shop.
Stopping at his Jeep, he tossed his purchased tuxedo inside. With its sharp edges and bow tie, the thing should have made him feel like Double O Seven, but he’d felt like a trussed-up penguin instead. “All right, you don’t need me to walk with you. But can I?” Great, he sounded desperate. “I want to apologize.”
“Well, if you want to apologize, by all means.”
Walking down the sidewalk between the buildings, they emerged onto the boardwalk and turned north. There were plenty of people out for an evening stroll, but not so many that it felt overly crowded. On instinct, he headed for the sand. They removed their flip-flops, hooking them over their fingers as they continued their trek down the beach.
Moonlight reflected off the water, which pulsed onto the shore, lapping at their feet. The wet sand squished between his toes.
“So, about this apology …”
“I was just about to get
