Chapter Fourteen

Brad

"Um, boss, I think you should come out here," Henry says from the door of my office, interrupting the paperwork I was working on. His face is pulled tight as he tries to hide his laughter.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"I don't even know how to explain it. You just need to get out there," he says as he points his thumb over his shoulder.

With a dramatic sigh, I push back from my chair and follow him out of my office. The bar is mostly empty given it's three p.m. on a Wednesday, but the few patrons here are all staring at something in the corner booth.

Dylan's booth.

I can only see the top of her head over the high-back timber that runs the length of the bench seat.

What the hell is she doing now?

Walking over to her, I stop dead in my tracks when I take in the scene in front of me.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what is happening right now.

Dylan sits in the booth on her own. She's wearing a long white dress that's made of satin and lace. It hugs her chest and torso, and from what I can see, it flares at the waist.

She's wearing a freaking wedding dress.

A wedding dress.

On a Wednesday afternoon.

At Happy's.

But that's not even all of it.

In front of her is a wedding cake, which she is eating with a spoon, like this is a totally normal thing to do.

"See? There's no way I could explain this," Henry whispers in my ear. "Good luck, boss." He pats me on the back and heads back to the bar.

Dylan turns her head and the biggest smile lights up her face when she sees me. I walk over to her booth and crowd in on the side she is sitting. As I lean down close to her, she scoots back a little to look up at me. "What the hell are you wearing, woman?" I growl out lowly, so only she can hear me.

Her smile widens. "A wedding dress," she says in such a casual way.

"Why are you wearing a wedding dress?" I put one hand on the back of the booth and one hand on the table so I can crowd her further. She doesn't move this time.

"Because I wanted to eat a wedding cake, but it didn't seem appropriate to sing happy birthday in order to eat a wedding cake, so I found a loophole. Now I can have the cake and eat it too." She takes another bite and icing sticks to her lips. Before her tongue has a chance to clean it up, I run my finger along her lips, collecting the excess white icing.

Without breaking eye contact, I put my finger in my mouth, and she damn near moans.

"You know you can just eat cake, right? You don't need to sing happy birthday or wear a freaking wedding dress to do so." I often wonder what goes on in her head. To her, the response is perfectly valid, even if it makes no sense to anyone else.

"When else am I ever going to get the chance to wear a wedding dress? It took you a million years to make a move on me, so you'll probably cark it before you ever get the chance to propose." I see the brief flicker of insecurity flash through her eyes before she covers it with humour. It's what Dylan does, and usually I let it go, not wanting to push her.

Not today.

My mouth starts talking before my brain has a chance to catch up. "If you want to wear a damn wedding dress and eat wedding cake, we'll do it."

Her mouth hangs open and I chuckle.

"W-what do you mean?" she stutters out, and it's the cutest fucking thing ever.

"It means we're getting married, Dylan. I'm not fucking around here. You want the dress, the cake, the flowers and the party? That's what we'll do." For dramatic effect, I pull my phone from my pocket and flick through the calendar. "How's six weeks from now? You'll be on break from uni, and we can go on a proper honeymoon."

Dylan opens and closes her mouth before finally finding words. "You're joking, right?" The insecurity in her eyes stays this time, and it breaks through my wall.

I would do anything to see this girl happy, and if that means a shotgun wedding, so be it.

Part of me knows she'll say no, and that's okay. She's eighteen and has her whole life ahead of her. There is no way she's going to tie her ass down with me.

"Nope, I'm serious. What do you say, Dylan? Will you marry me?" I give her a challenging look and smirk.

She doesn't answer straight away. Her eyes dart away from mine while she's lost in thought.

Just as I'm about to step back from the booth and give her some space, she turns back to me, and the look she gives me has me glued to the spot. "Yes," she says with a grin.

"What?" I choke out. There is no way she's agreeing to this.

"Yes, Brad, I'll marry you." Her gaze hardens and her eyebrow raises in a challenge.

Fuck.

She wasn't supposed to say yes.

But now she has, and there is no way I am backing down. If she is playing with me, she's going to have to be the one to call this thing off.

Leaning close, I say, "Are you sure? I'm not walking away from this, Dylan."

Her eyes darken, and she closes the gap between us to press a quick kiss to my lips. "Positive. Now are you telling Minnie, or am I?" She chuckles and pushes me out of the way so she can stand in front of me.

Shit.

Her brother is going to murder me.

There is no way he will be okay with this, but I have a feeling it'll be better coming from me than her.

Stepping back, I admire her in the dress now that I can see it in its entirety. It's a little too big and not a style that I'd picture her in. "I'll tell him. Where the hell did you find this thing?" I ask as I toy with the lace on her sleeve.

"The op shop. It's horrible, but it was the only thing I could find that would fit, and it only cost twenty bucks." She does a twirl and then leans into my body. Instinctually my arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer. "It was nice knowing you. Can we at least try number three on the sex list before you tell Minnie?" There's humour and challenge in her expression. She doesn't think I'll go through with it, which just further cements it.

There is no fucking way I will be the one to lose this.

Problem is, we're both stubborn.

I guess we're getting married.

"Hey, Henry! Are you good here for an hour?" Dylan calls out, and Henry nods.

"Sure, what's going on?" he asks curiously.

"I'm going to need my future husband to take me home and rock my world to celebrate the occasion," she says as she saunters over to the bar.

"Your what?" Henry says, spitting his mouthful of coke across the timber surface.

I groan and follow her as she walks around the bar and towards the door that leads to the office and back door.

"Future husband. We're getting married in what? Six weeks. Right, Brad?"

I guess we're telling people now.

Deciding the safer option is to play along with her little charade, I throw my arm over her shoulder and drop a kiss to the top of her head before speaking to Henry. "Yep, that's right. It's going to be a little crazy around here, planning a wedding in such a short amount of time. But I have no doubt my future wifey will be able to do it."

Henry shakes his head. His eyes dart between the both of us as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

Good luck. At this point, I don't think even I know what's going on.