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I meet his gaze, seeing for the first time what I’ve been trying to ignore—the predator behind the polished facade.
“I’ll tell my father you send your regards,” I say stiffly.
Eleven
Lila
Emily calls just as I’m finishing my shift at the bakery: “Hi, Lila. Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I have a shopping emergency!”
“Is everything okay?? I ask, wondering what constitutes a shopping emergency for someone who could probably buy the entire store if she wanted.
“There’s a charity event this weekend, and Kendrick and I both need a new dress. You need one, too, because you’re coming withus!”
I blink. “I am?” I stammer.
“Yes! Wild’s annual children’s hospital benefit. No arguments—I already have your ticket.”
Before I can protest, she states firmly, “Don’t worry about the dress. It’s my treat. Consider it payment for all the amazing pastries you’ve been feeding us.’
“Emily, that’s too much. You’ve already helped me with the apartment as well as some catering connections.”
“Please? Kendrick and I need someone normal there. These events can be... pretentious.”
I think about declining, but honestly, the thought of getting dressed up sounds fun. And maybe a tiny part of me wants to see Luke in a tux.
“Okay,” I respond. “But I’m buying lunch.”
“It’s a deal! We’ll pick you up at 1 o’clock. Wear comfortable shoes!”
The next day, Kendrick’s sleek SUV pulls into my driveway right on time. She and Emily both look effortlessly chic in their designer jeans and fitted shirts.
“Ready for some retail therapy?” Emily asks as I climb in.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say quietly, as what red-blooded American girl doesn’t like to go clothes shopping?
“So, we were thinking San Marco,” Kendrick says as she pulls into the street. “There’s this boutique that has the most amazing selection.”
“The stylists there are miracle workers,” Emily says, turning to look at me in the back seat. “I was there last month looking like a sleep-deprived mom zombie, and somehow, they made me look like a human being again.”
Kendrick snorts, and I laugh, relaxing into the comfortable leather seat, stating, “I could use some of that magic. I tried to jog the other morning and ended up only speed walking instead. So much for getting in shape.”
“Oh please,” Emily rolls her eyes. “Your curves look amazing. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to lose these last few baby pounds, and soon Presley will be a year old.”
We share a laugh, and the drive quickly passes as we chat about everything and nothing. They both have a way of making me feel comfortable, as if I’ve known them forever. By the time we pull into San Marco’s upscale shopping district, I’ve almost forgotten to be nervous about the prices.
Almost.
The boutique looks exactly like the place where I’d normally press my nose against the window and keep walking. But Kendrick and Emily march right in, obviously regular customers.
“Emily and Kendrick.” A woman glides toward us. “What can I help you with today?”
“Hi, Caroline. This is our friend Lila. We each need a gown for Saturday’s gala.”
Caroline’s professional assessment makes me want to stand up straighter. “Lovely. We have some new pieces that would be perfect.”
What follows is like a scene from a movie. Caroline and another stylist named Janet bring dress after dress into our private fitting rooms. They instinctively understand what works for different body types.
“Try this one,” Janet says, holding up a deep emerald gown. “The ruching will highlight your curves beautifully.”