Page 24 of Before You Say I Do
She’d just come out to Abby. She hoped Abby was cool with it. Yes, she had a gay maid of honour, but you just never knew. Maybe her quota for gay bridesmaids stopped at one. Jordan hoped Abby realised not all lesbians were as flaky as her best friend, who was proving to be a terrible maid of honour. Of course, Jordan had seen it before. But even she was mad at Delta today. Jordan could really have done with Delta’s presence to stop her fixating on Abby’s hourglass figure.
The good news? Abby was about to get into a bridal gown. If there was anything that would cool Jordan’s feelings it was a big, fluffy white dress. She’d never found wedding dresses sexy in the least, and had no idea why anyone else did, either. White suited just about nobody. Match it with a tiara and satin shoes, and Jordan was out.
“Shit.” That was Abby’s voice from behind the cream curtain.
Jordan got up and hovered outside, flexing her toes in her shoes. “Everything okay?”
Abby poked her head out. Her shoulders were naked.
Jordan kept her gaze at eye level.
“It’s just, I’m wearing the wrong bra for one of these dresses. One of them is an off-the-shoulder number, and I forgot to bring my strapless bra.” Abby’s fingers tightened around the curtain.
Something inside Jordan clenched. She ignored it.
“You think they have one here?”
Jordan sucked on her top lip. “They might, but I’m not sure I’d want to put on a second-hand bra. You want me to get you one? I know the M&S lingerie department like the back of my hand.” There were perks to her flatmate, and the shop was just around the corner. “Nude and strapless, right?”
Abby nodded. “Would you? That would be a lifesaver. I really want to see it as it’ll be on the day.”
“That’s my job, right?” Jordan gave her a grin. “What are you? A 32D?” She felt the blush hit her cheeks almost instantaneously. Did that sound like she’d been checking out Abby’s tits? Because she hadn’t, she’d just taken a normal interest. Okay, perhaps a greater interest than the average person on the street. But that was her job.
Abby held her gaze, an emotion flitting across her face Jordan couldn’t quite pin down.
“Spot on. If you ever stop doing this job, you could always get a job as a bra consultant. Isn’t that what they call them these days? Consultant rather than fitter?”
Guessing people’s bra size was Jordan’s super-power. If this business went tits-up, she could always fall back on tits. She twisted on one foot, tapping her pockets as was her habit to make sure she had her wallet. She did.
“Back in five. Don’t go anywhere.”
Abby smiled, still clutching the curtain in front of her. “I’m naked. I’m staying put.”
Jordan didn’t reply, trying to put that image out of her brain as she jogged out of the shop.
True to her word, she was back in ten minutes with a 32D nude, strapless bra. When she drew up outside Abby’s changing room again, she hesitated. How was she meant to do this?
“Knock, knock,” she said, even though there was nothing to knock her hand on. Sometimes her Britishness exasperated her.
Abby poked her head out, gratefully accepting the bra. “You really are the best,” she said. “I don’t think Delta would have jumped to my aid like you just did. She couldn’t even make it here in the first place.”
Jordan gave a gentle shrug. “That’s why I’m here.” She sat on the biscuit-coloured sofa outside the changing rooms, trying to regulate her breathing.
Nerves jangled throughout her body.
This wasn’t like her. Jordan was calm and collected around brides. It was her job.
It didn’t work around Abby.
Jordandidn’t work as she should around Abby.
She wanted Abby to like her.
Because Jordan liked Abby.
She was attracted to Abby.
She shook her head.
