Free The Chapel Wars by Lindsey Leavitt Page A

wanted to go?” Dax asked.
    I’d witnessed the bridal fashion show before. Under any other circumstances, I’d rather gouge out my eye with a bridal veil comb than attend. But here was an excuse to talk to Dax for a bit. Just talk. He may have been off-limits when it came to physical things, but he might prove to be an excellent resource when it came to … brainstorming effective business models.
    “That’ll be great. See you, Sam.”
    Sam pulled me to the side. “What’s with the fake Southern accent?”
    “It’s not fake.”
    “Where’s he from then?”
    “I don’t know. I told you, I barely know the kid.”
    “If he goes Cranston on you, I swear I’ll drive my truck into their lobby.”
    “That’s your solution for everything,” I said.
    “Just because it’s always my answer doesn’t make it the wrong answer.”
    “You are such a country song.”
    He looked at me sharply. “Camille told you to say that.”
    “There happen to be some things Camille and I agree on.”
    “I just … I have a bad feeling about this guy.”
    I let out an exasperated breath. “And what feeling do you have exactly?”
    “Like … this doesn’t end well. For anyone.”
    “It’s a bridal fashion show, not a Shakespearean tragedy.”
    Sam huffed away.
    Dax let out a low whistle once he was out of earshot. “Boyfriend?”
    I made a face. “Gross. No.”
    “Ex-boyfriend?”
    “No, he’s practically married, and I am very not interested.” I wanted to do something girly then, like flip my black hair, but a pixie cut didn’t give me anything to flip. “Sam is my best friend. Sometimes best friend, except when he acts like that.”
    “Well, is your boyfriend here, then?” Dax asked, peering around the convention center.
    My stomach dipped. Checking on my relationship eligibility.I should have said Sam was my boyfriend so this little flirty flirt would end cold. “No, he hates wedding events.”
    Dax deflated slowly, like a hidden leak in an air mattress. Which I hated, so I tried to make him smile again. Up you roll, emotional yo-yo.
    “Because … he went to the shooting range before his cage-wrestling match,” I said. “We’re going to eat dead animals with our bare hands later tonight.”
    Dax rewarded me with a smile. There was a dimple under the stubble. I tried to shield myself from all that adorable. It was a thick shield.
    “Sounds like a keeper.”
    “He would be if he were real. A girl can always dream.”
    Dax started walking toward the stage. “So Sam is an employee?”
    “Well, I mean, we work together. With his girlfriend, Camille. They’re fun when they aren’t sucking face. Do you have any friends at your chapel?”
    “Not unless you count Minerva, at the front desk. She makes me peanut brittle sometimes.”
    “I met her, I think.”
    “No, that was Millicent. She’s Minerva’s twin sister. They’ve worked for us since we opened. Besides those two, we have pretty high turnover. My poppy isn’t the easiest person to work for.”
    “Then is Millicent your friend?”
    “No. She hates me. She asked me to bird sit for her once and somehow I traumatized Mr. Tompkins.”
    The fashion show was already in full swing, which would be 34 percent swing if you were to compare it to any real fashion show. Dax raised his chin so he could see over the crowd. I counted nine girls with “I’m the bride!” nametags.
    Models in wedding finery twirled down the catwalk while an MC shouted expressions like “Gorgeous! Dynamic! Breathtaking!” One groom burst into the splits during a nineties hip-hop song. Spectators catcalled and fanned themselves with wedding brochures. It was, to say the least, the worst.
    “I love this dress!” The announcer’s voice was one pitch away from a dog whistle. “Looks like she’s walking on a cloud.”
    “Clouds are just visible vapor, so if you walked on them you’d fall through and die, and it would be a humid death,” I said.
    Dax grinned. “Unless you