Jules Bennett - Best Man Under The Mistletoe

“You can go on into Priceless while I try on the dress.”

Gabe hopped out of the truck and shot her a wink. “If it’s all the same, I’ll just stick with you. You won’t be long and then you can help me load the table next door.”

Chelsea groaned as she jerked on her door handle. Normally, Gabe would get the door for a woman—he was raised in the South by a well-mannered mother—but he also had a feeling if he tried to get the door for Chelsea, he’d just be taking a step in the wrong direction.

But the moment he stepped inside Natalie’s shop, Gabe started to reconsider his ploy to stick close to Chelsea. There were dresses everywhere. Fluffy, lacy, silky dresses, and the place smelled...pink. If a smell could have a color, this place was definitely pink.

The peppy little shop attendant greeted Chelsea and promptly went to get the dress from the back. Gabe spotted a lounge area in that direction and made his way to a white sofa in front of the wall of mirrors. He could catch up on a few emails that needed his attention and check in on his right-hand man doing some security work in Dallas for the next few weeks.

Nothing was as important as his business, especially during this crucial time. He’d already reached out to some of his closest clients and assured them that Dusty’s scandal had nothing to do with the Walsh Group. He’d also made sure they knew they could come to him personally with questions or concerns.

The unfortunate, untimely setback wouldn’t change the way Gabe handled his business. But it sure did complicate matters. If ole Dusty weren’t already dead, Gabe would have no problem driving out to his mansion and beating the ever loving sh—

Every single thought vanished when Chelsea stepped from the dressing room and came to stand in front of the three-way mirror. The fitted gold gown shouldn’t have looked so damn sexy, seeing as how it was long, with full sleeves, and a high neck. But the material hugged every single curve and dip on Chelsea’s luscious body, mocking him. He’d seen her in jeans, even in little flowy sundresses, but nothing like this, all sultry and glamorous.

She smoothed the dress over her flat stomach and turned from side to side. The innocent gesture shouldn’t have gripped his attention, but this woman had him in a total trance.

Emails and damage control forgotten, Gabe set aside his phone. He had nothing else to be doing right this second except for admiring her as she watched her reflection.

Hell. This wasn’t the time or the place to be getting uncomfortable in his jeans. Just who the hell was seducing whom here? But from the unsure look on her face—her brows were drawn, her mouth turned down in a frown—it seemed she had doubts about how damn perfect and sexy she looked.

“It’s fine,” he growled after what seemed like an hour of pure torture. “Can we wrap it up here?”

Hands on her hips, Chelsea glared at him from her reflection in the mirror. “I need to make sure I can breathe and sit without busting a seam, if you don’t mind. It seems tight.”

Actually he did mind, and it was damn tight...the dress and his pants. He should’ve gone to the antique store because this was pure hell. Then again, at least he had a heads-up for how she’d look when he had to escort her down the aisle. He’d hate to be all mouth agape and drooling in front of Shane and Brandee’s friends and families.

The idea of Chelsea and him walking down the aisle shouldn’t have made him feel awkward, yet it did. Weddings in general made him twitchy. That whole happily-ever-after wasn’t for everyone; he’d even managed to dodge being in any type of wedding party his entire life. But there was no way he could say no to Shane, his very best friend.

The more Chelsea shifted and turned and smoothed her hands over those luscious curves, the more uncomfortable Gabe became.

Commotion behind him had him tearing his gaze from the mirror and glancing over his shoulder. A slew of teenage girls came in the door, chattering and giggling about homecoming and needing perfect dresses. He could not get out of there fast enough. Between the lace, the satin and the chatter in such high octaves, this place was sucking the testosterone right out of his body.

“This will just have to work because I don’t have the time to do more measurements,” Chelsea muttered as she stepped off the platform and headed back into her dressing room. “Give me two minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

Gabe came to his feet, more than ready to get the hell out. As he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, he heard Chelsea mumbling and cursing from inside the dressing room. Seconds later, the door eased open just a crack.

“Um... I’m stuck.”

He eyed the narrow strip of her face showing through the door. “’Scuse me?”

“The zipper,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “The damn thing is stuck. Get the salesclerk to come help me.”

Gabe glanced over his shoulder at the mayhem of teens and fluffy dresses. The two workers were running in all directions accommodating parents and demanding girls.

He could do this. How hard would it be to get a zipper unstuck? Pulling in a deep breath, Gabe pushed open the dressing room door and offered up his assistance.

Three

“Gabe. What—?”

She backed up and stared as he shut and locked the door behind him. The narrow space seemed to shrink even more with his broad frame filling the area.

“You said you needed help.”

Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest. “I said to get the salesclerk.”

“Well, darlin’, there’s about a dozen teenage girls out there and only two staff that I saw. That’s not a great ratio, so if you want out of this dress anytime in the next few hours, I’m it.”

That gleam in his eye was just about the naughtiest, sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Which was one of the many reasons she shouldn’t be closed in with him, and definitely why he shouldn’t help unzip her dress. Being half-naked and in close proximity with Gabe would only lead to...

She couldn’t even let her mind wander down that path.

“I’ll do it myself,” she claimed, though she’d already tried that. “Go on to the antique store and I’ll be right over.”

Gabe took one step and was right against her. “We both have other things to do today, so you might as well let me help you out.”

“You seem to be enjoying this a little too much.”

His hand skimmed up her side where the zipper was carefully hidden. “I’ll be enjoying this even more if you’d let me work this zipper down.”

The image that immediately popped into her head had Chelsea thinking for a half second of lifting her arm and letting him have a go. But then she remembered who he was...or rather who his uncle had been.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she told him. Surely he saw that...didn’t he? He knew her feelings and knew full well she didn’t trust him.

“What’s not a good idea?” he asked, his eyes traveling over her face, landing on her lips. “Us in this confined space alone or the fact that you’re attracted to me?”

Chelsea fisted her hands at her sides—to keep from hitting him or grabbing his face and kissing him, she wasn’t sure. Her attraction wouldn’t be such an issue if Gabe wasn’t a Walsh. If his uncle hadn’t tried to destroy so many lives, hers included. The guilt by association was enough to have her emotionally pulling back.

But the sizzling attraction didn’t let up, no matter how much she tried to shove it aside.

Chelsea’s body trembled, betraying her vow to keep him at a distance. When his fingers skimmed over her again, he quirked a half smile as he brought his eyes back up to meet hers.

“Is this the part where you deny your attraction?” he asked, still using those clever hands. His fingertips circled around to where the dress exposed her back.