Page 13

Wolfe
We pulled up outside the most expensive boutique in Raleigh after a quiet two-hour drive. Esme didn’t seem inclined to talk, just sat there with her hands loosely clasped in her lap and gazed out the window. I left her to her thoughts and let mine wander as well.
Getting out of the car, her eyes ran over the front of the store. The windows were adorned with the words “Enchanted Rose” in soft pink lettering, and behind them were mannequins dressed in ballgowns. She shot me an uncertain look, twisting her hands together, which I was learning was a sign she was stressed. So I tried to smile reassuringly. I’d planned to drop her off and let her choose her own clothes, but the anxiety rolling off her had me changing my mind.
“I’m not sure about this.”
“You’ll be fine. It’s just dress shopping. If you don’t like it, I’ll take you to Walmart.”
She snorted, which was absolutely fucking adorable. “You will not!”
“The lady gets what the lady wants. Seriously, though. Don’t overthink it, remember? It’s just a dress.”
“From a really fancy place.”
“Sure, but just a dress all the same.” I held my arm out, indicating for her to go in front of me. “I’ll be right with you the whole time.”
She drew in a deep, steadying breath and stepped into the store. Of course, inside was just as fancy as you’d expect. Cream carpet, soft lighting, soft pink lettering and the rose motif everywhere.
Immediately, a sales clerk stepped forward. She wore a black pencil skirt, soft pink blouse and her gray hair was tied back in a low bun. “Mr. Rivers. So good to see you again.”
“Hello, Barbara. Same to you.”
“And you must be Esme” She smiled kindly, and I saw Esme visibly relax. Thank God for Barbara.
“That’s me.”
“Lovely. If you’ll kindly follow me this way. I understand we’re dressing for a dinner engagement. Correct?”
“Um, yes. That’s right.”
“Well, we’ll avoid the ball gowns, then, shall we?”
I trailed after them as Barbara took Esme through the cocktail dresses, curious to see what she would choose. Nothing, as it turned out. She was completely overwhelmed. I took over. “This one, these two, that one and…” I paused, glancing around the nearby racks. “This one.”
“Excellent choices, as always, Mr. Rivers. Esme, what do you think?”
“They’re fine. They’re all fine. Great, actually.”
“Perfect. Now to the fun part, where you get to try them on.”
With the decision made for her, Esme actually looked excited to try the dresses on. As she moved past me, she leaned into whisper, “Seriously, this is just like that scene in Pretty Woman.” Her eyes were lit with excitement and her sweet, peachy scent washed over me. She moved off to follow Barbara and although I didn’t mean to, my eyes dropped to her ass. Yep, taking Esme out for her birthday was the best idea I’d ever had.
I took a seat in the waiting area while Barbara helped Esme into the first dress.
She came out a few moments later, in a delicate, blush pink lace dress, with a sweetheart neckline and flared skirt. “Do I look like a Stepford Wife?”
“Yes. Next.”
This one took a little longer. I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh when she emerged from the dressing room, took one look in the mirror and said, “Very Oscar Statuette chic.”
She wasn’t wrong, either. A long, sequined gold dress with a cowl neck. “Next.”
Holy fuck. The next one had me thinking all sorts of dirty thoughts. It was fire engine red, with a plunging neckline and thigh high slit at the side. “Nope.”
“What? You don’t like it?” She turned around in front of the mirror, pulling the neckline up and the slit up her leg closed.
My Esme was no femme fatale, that was for sure. And as such, there was no way I could sit across from her at dinner in that dress without sporting some seriously hard wood, which would just make her uncomfortable. “It’s not the right red for you.”