Page 54 of Somehow You Knew

Hisgrip lingers for a second longer before he releases me, then turns and walks in the opposite direction, leaving me standing there, trying to get my racing heart under control.

That’s the third time he’s intentionally touched me. And each time, it leaves me completely rattled.

Luckily, I have a mission to keep me busy—finding the most ridiculous outfit possible. I take a deep breath, hoist my purse higher on my shoulder, and get to work.

I just hope he’s not going to be as mean as I am.

***

About fifteen minutes later, we meet each other at the dressing rooms, hiding our selections behind our backs.

"You sure about your pick?" I ask him, taking a moment to appreciate the way his biceps strain against his shirt, flexing slightly as he hides his choice from view. Not distracting at all.

“Oh, I’m sure. You?”

“Dead set.”

“Reveal on three?” he asks, his smile building.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three,” we say in unison, and I hold up my pick just as Gage does the same, and when I see what he’s chosen, I burst out laughing.

“Oh, God. That’s the worst you could do?” I ask as I take in the Grinch pajama onesie that looks about five sizes too big.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to stuff it full of pillows to give you the belly too.”

Laughing, I say, “Fair enough.” Then I hold up the outfit I picked for him.

His smile vanishes. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a dress, Gage.”

His eyes narrow. “It looks like a torture device.”

To be fair, it kind of is. The hot pink sequined gown I found has so many straps that Gage may very well get trapped in it, but when I saw it, I knew it was the winner.

“Don’t forget the heels and blonde wig,” I say, holding up the other two items I found to complete the look.

Gage lets out a whistle. “I underestimated you, Spitfire.”

I shove the dress into his chest. “Let this be your lesson to never make that mistake again.”

After I change into the ridiculous Grinch onesie, I step out of the dressing room to find Judy helping Gage into the gown. “Oh God…”

“This dress feels like being stuffed into a tube sock,” Gage mutters as I take in the entirety of him.

The dress is about two sizes too small, but he managed to squeeze his body into it, and my, oh my—what a body it is. Tattoos cover his back and chest, but his abs are still bare. The halter top neckline of the dress strains against his broad back and the tight fit does nothing to conceal the bulge between his legs and his muscular thighs.

And now, I’m being forced to process the fact that my husband is absurdly hot in a dress.

“There.” Judy ties the strings in the back of the dress as best she can before handing Gage the wig. “Don’t forget this.”

Gage glares at her. “Gee, thanks.”

Chuckling, I grab a few pillows from the basket by the dressing rooms and stuff them into my Grinch suit, rounding out my belly.

---