Sweet Satisfaction by Becca Dale

crowded racks of wedding gowns to the back counter labeled fittings and pick-up. A ponytailed teen peeked around the corner when he tapped the bell.
    “Oh, thank God, a real customer.”
    He laughed as he looked over his shoulder to the chaos behind him. “What’s going on?”
    “The yearly sample sale.”
    “Must be a hell of a sale.”
    “Everything’s half off or more, up to eighty percent, but no special orders.”
    “The staff must hate it.”
    “Actually, most of them love it. They get rid of old stuff so there’s room for new and make some pretty happy brides in the process. Personally, I’m fine back here working on alterations.”
    “Then I won’t keep you. I need the tuxes for the Braddock/Ferguson wedding.”
    “How many?”
    “Two.”
    “All right. I’ll be right back. Stay here where you’ll be safe.”
    Gavin chuckled as the girl scurried behind the curtain. He turned and surveyed the chaos in the main part of the store. Future brides, friends, and mothers ran about while frantic salespeople fought to keep up. Then he saw her, the most exquisite creature he had ever seen smiled from her reflected image. She stood before a three-way mirror with a much shorter blonde. Loose, ebony curls, muted by a gauzy sheer veil, brushed her shoulders and framed her oval face. Huge, wide-set eyes sparkled when she looked down at her friend. She flashed a Julia Robert’s style grin as something the other woman said made her laugh.
    All the stories his family had told about knowing the perfect woman when he saw her filled his head. He didn’t need to hear her name or anything else. His heart knew without question. Nothing mattered beyond that. He started toward her before the wedding dress she wore registered.
    Too late. She belonged to someone else. Still, he could not turn back to the counter. He had to see that smile directed his way, had to hear her speak at least once. He leaned a shoulder against the heavy white lacquered mirror and smiled at his dream. “Have you run the dance test yet?”
    She started as he spoke, turning toward him in curious surprise. “Excuse me?”
    Her short friend assessed him, but he ignored her, studying instead the breathtaking and unexpected sky blue of the beauty’s eyes. Her expressive gaze narrowed and a confused scowl erased her exquisite smile. Her voice sounded as lovely as he had expected, but he needed that grin back.
    He stepped behind her, careful not to touch, while he studied the dress in the mirror. It outlined her tall, slender body in aching detail without losing class or grace. He could see her gliding down the aisle while some lucky bastard waited at the altar. “The dance test. Dancability is an essential element in selecting a wedding dress.”
    Her smile and spirited sparkle returned. “Is it, huh? And how do I test for that?”
    You step into my arms and let me hold you. “First, you need shoes so the gown doesn’t drag.”
    The short woman disappeared and reappeared almost instantly with a pair of cream-colored pumps. “How about these?”
    Gavin dropped to his knee and held out a hand for the shoes. “Let’s see shall we?”
    The beauty laughed. A stunning Cinderella to his bemused prince. Using his shoulder for balance, she stepped into the shoes. The heels lifted the gown’s hem a scant half inch off the floor ensuring they wouldn’t step on it.
    He cradled her fine-boned ankle a moment, savoring the smooth satin of her skin before he rose to his feet and attempted to act normal. “Shall we try it then?”
    The girl from alterations slid around the counter and hung the tuxedoes on a nearby hook. “Wait. I think there’s a loop in the hem.” She searched the train until she found the satin circle and held it out. “Slip it over your right hand so the fabric sways as you dance.”
    Beauty shook her head but slid the band around her wrist. “We can’t dance to this music.”
    The background instrumental shifted to Anne Murray’s,