Taken With Trouble (CAUGHT IN CHAOS #2)

15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Liam

I thought I’d seen it all, but it doesn’t get better than this: Special Agent Serena Cruz in a dress shop.

I made an appointment for Serena at a dress store. It’s not the most expensive, but it also isn’t cheap. I didn’t want to draw too much attention, just in case the FBI is on our trail since Serena has been off grid for a few days. But I’m not too worried. If they’re looking for her, then right about now they should be somewhere in Florida, thanks to my excellent planning.

We are definitely drawing attention in the dress store, though. Serena is absolutely terrified of all dresses, dodging the tulle and silk like she’ll get burned. She’s like a giant walking through a tiny teacup store, trying to avoid touching anything for fear of breaking it or worse, owning it.

“No,” Serena says when we are ushered to a private room. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

I choose the most comfortable chair and sink into it. “Try on a dress?”

“ Wear a dress. I’d rather be vegan.”

I raise my brows. “You’d never survive as a vegan. What’s wrong with dresses? ”

“Everything!” she hisses. “I can’t run in them, jump over fences, or fight. And where am I supposed to hide my gun?”

I allow my imagination to conjure up an image of Cruz doing all those things in a dress. And it’s safe to say I like it. “I’ve already figured out the gun part,” I say. “But you can’t keep walking around Europe in those ripped jeans and not draw attention.” I should know. My attention has been on little else for the last forty-eight hours.

A lady appears in the doorway, carrying at least ten dresses. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Serena shudder. I stand, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her into me before she can bolt.

“Hello, I’m Abigail, and I’ll be assisting you today,” the woman says with a smile.

Now I’m nervous. “Just you?”

Abigail nods.

We might need ten more people to get Cruz in a dress.

“Come,” Abigail says to Serena in a perfectly commanding voice.

She doesn’t move.

“Play nice.” I nudge her forward, and she turns back, glaring at me.

After a few more nudges, I push her straight into the dressing room myself.

Abigail looks up from unzipping the dresses. “Let’s begin.”

“You’re the worst,” Serena mutters for my ears only.

“What’s that, love?” I scoot in closer. “You want me to stay? Your wish is my comman—”

Serena shoves me out of the curtain so hard I almost fall, but I catch myself, chuckling as I return to the sofa.

Abigail must be a magician; not thirty seconds later, the curtains part, and Cruz steps out in a pale pink summer dress. I requested some day dresses as well as evening wear. I’m glad we are starting with the simpler ones first. One look at Serena in something so feminine has my heart racing, and my breath catches in my lungs. Two-inch ruffled straps cross her back and meet the corseted top in front. The print is gingham, and I can tell by Serena’s deep scowl that she detests it. I have never seen anything more beautiful .

“Wh…” Words fail me. Serena doesn’t need a dress to be pretty, but seeing her like this makes her look more gentle and sweet. Harmless.

“I hate it,” Serena announces and marches back into the room.

A minute later she returns in an almost identical dress but in baby blue. It’s more sophisticated than the last one, while still appearing youthful and fun.

“We’ll take that one,” I say.

“I never said I liked it,” Serena says.

“You do.”

“Do not.”

I grin. She’s acting like a teenager now. This dress is perfect.

“Why do I need a day dress?” she asks.

I smile sweetly. “Remember darling, we are touring the Moore Estate after this? It was on the agenda .”

Serena purses her lips, then her eyes light up. “Oh, right, and we’re looking for lost treasure under the Louvre after that?”

I try to give her a scolding look, but it doesn’t hold. “Let’s try the eveningwear next,” I say to Abigail, who is looking between us with raised brows.

Serena harrumphs and stomps to the room, the store associate on her heels.

I open my phone, setting the plans for the rest of the day in motion as Cruz changes. It takes longer this time, and I hear her fighting with the woman.

“I’m not wearing those.”

“You have boobs. You wear these,” Abigail says.

“Why can’t I wear a normal bra?”

I can’t help laughing at this conversation.

The curtain flies open, and Cruz steps out in a silky red dress. My phone slips from my hand, and I reach for it, but my fingers have turned numb. My heart slows before beating so hard it’s physically painful.

She’s stunning. The top wraps around her chest, crossing over with a single shoulder strap. The skirt flares out beneath her ribs and ripples around her to the ground. There’s a slit so high I have to tear my gaze away to keep my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t. The delicate strap highlights the lean muscles in her arms and shoulders. My hands itch to explore every inch of her exposed skin then slip around her waist and dance with her right here in this dress shop. I already know the song we’ll dance to. Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. Someday it will be our wedding song.

“Your husband likes this one.” Abigail’s voice breaks through my trance.

“He’s not my—” Serena says at the same time I say, “I do.”

Cruz’s face goes as red as the dress she’s wearing, and she scowls at me. A glare so icy it alters the temperature of the room. “Well, I don’t.” She turns into the room, and only when she’s out of sight does my brain restart. I scoop up my phone, tapping it against my leg a couple times. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like I’ve never seen a woman in a dress before. But I’ve never seen a woman like her in a dress like that before. And it’s too incredible to process. She’s the object of my desire. I want to paint her, to immortalize her like that forever. She’s too beautiful to ever be forgotten.

I shake my head. I need to focus. On so many other things besides how sexy Serena looks.

Then she steps out again in a simple black dress, but there’s nothing simple about the way it hugs her curves. Every single one is on display like she’s the main exhibition in my favorite gallery. I could study her forever, from the deep V-neck down to the sheer skirt that makes her long legs seem otherworldly.

I step up next to her, grab her hand, and spin her around.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Enjoying this,” I murmur.

She shoves me away. “I’m not yours to enjoy. I’m done trying on dresses,” she tells the woman as she walks back into the room.

Abigail looks at me, her eyes carrying a warning. “You cherish her.”

“I will,” I say, without hesitation, surprising myself. I thought my heart was long gone, but it’s still right there in my chest where I left it years ago. And it’s beating like crazy.

Am I having a heart attack?

I raise a finger to my neck, feeling my pulse. It’s too fast .

What’s wrong with me? I can flirt and not care. But something inside me really cares right now. And that scares me more than anything. The last time I cared about someone like this, she died.

I catch my breath, holding it in, then releasing it slowly. That won’t happen again.

“Liam?” Cruz appears in my line of sight in her regular clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect.” I pull a smile onto my face, though I don’t feel it. “Was that so bad?”

“Yes.” She deadpans. “I have trauma.”

“Come, I’ll help you work through it.” I grab her hand and lead her through the shop.

“No, wait.” She digs her heels in. “You misunderstood me. You’re my source of trauma.”

“In that case, I’ve heard immersion therapy works great. Let’s kiss.”

“In your dreams, Hawthorne.”

I love that she knows what I dream about.