Page 46
Story: The Inquisitor
Save money.
The anxiety bit me like a yappy dog—an annoyingly constant reminder of my glaring issue. My financial situation stopped me from making an impulse buy. I didn’tneedthe dress.
Perhaps I could come back and buy it after I finished the side job. I could treat myself to one dress from the extra income.
The self-talk made me feel better. I really didn’t need any new clothes. I had a closet full of dresses from all the designers I’d worked with, but none of them were in this beautiful sage color.
Touching the dress would be enough for now. I entered the boutique with elegant fixtures and lighting. They carried a wide selection of menswear, which differed from boutiques I’d visited. Most boutiques carried women’s clothing with one or two racks of menswear. But half of the display was for menswear, including shoes.
A pretty girl wearing a black dress and a side braid smiled at me. “Welcome to the Southern Belle. Y’all need help with something specific?”
“No, thank you. I’m just looking.”
“Take your time, miss,” said the associate, who went to help a couple who had just entered.
I lost myself in the racks organized according to color. I touched the sage green dress, and the silkiness was to die for. Taking the dress off the rack, I placed it against my body and glanced in the mirror. It was beautiful and would feel so lovely against my skin, especially in this hot, humid weather. But I couldn’t.
An image intruded into my mind—Forrest slipping this dress off of me, one strap at a time. I walked over to the three-way mirror beside a seating area with elegant couches.
“I like the other cufflinks better,” said a hoarse voice that stiffened my spine.
I turned toward the seating area across the room with a display of menswear clothing. Mitch Kramer sat in a loveseat, his face hidden from view because of the angle of the large chair. I cringed at his red dress shoes.He needed a new stylist.
Of all the years I’d spent photographing fashion models and high-end brands, I’d never seen red men’s dress shoes. Wealthy men usually preferred black, brown, gray, or white dress shoes, which were muted and classy.
What would happen if he saw me? Would he notice my resemblance to my mom?
He got up from the chair, and nerves churned in me. I stood behind my clothing rack as he walked by while talking on his phone. He glanced at me, and no recognition splashed on his face. He returned to his call as he walked up to sales counter. “See you soon, sexy.”
I couldn’t help the disappointment and sadness that followed. This man didn’t deserve an ounce of feelings from me. My father didn’t know me, and that was how it was going to be.
Being so close to him soured my mood and the desire for the dress. I returned it to its track just as my phone buzzed with a reminder of the medical convention—another reason I was in this area today. With my mom’s new condition, I’d been trying to figure out ways to help her. I saw an ad for this convention that would showcase new and innovative medication. I’d never been to one of these conventions before because they hadn’t interested me. Now, my interest shifted because of a life and death situation.
It was interesting how life changed your perspective on things. The medical convention was free to those who just wanted to browse and not attend the seminars. It was only two blocks away from The Southern Belle, so I walked there. By the time I arrived, crowds of people had already formed around a booth for some new medication.
I picked up the agenda and browsed through the directory. Mom had a bad liver and muscular issues that made her weak. I had to look for something that could aid those conditions. I spotted a booth with a liver medication and another that eased muscle ailments.
The booth with the liver medication was too crowded. Health professionals lobbed questions at the two representatives, who appeared overwhelmed. I didn’t understand the science jargon. I needed layman’s terms on medication. Most of the time, I couldn’t even pronounce the drug’s name.
I grabbed a blue promotional bag and a flyer from the stand. There was no way the representative would have time to entertain my questions. I’d review the flyer and email them with questions.
A headache bloomed. I just wanted some easy-to-understand language that could answer all my questions. Anxiety, hunger, stress, and the commotion coming from the crowd swarmed like mosquitoes. I had to get out of here.
As I headed down the hallway to exit, hoping to find a sandwich shop, my body shivered for no reason. Then someone called my name.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
FORREST
Ignoring my peers, I strode toward Kiera. When I stepped out into the hallway, I hadn’t expected to see her amongst the crowds, but my body sensed her. Even though I only saw her back, I knew it was her.
When she turned, my heart skipped several beats. She wore one of the new Ba7M5Bu88T-shirts in a soft yellow. Seeing her supporting my project did something strange to my insides, but I didn’t want to think about it. The women I’d dated before weren’t interested in my project, never mind buying a T-shirt.
“What are you doing here?” I approached her, remembering our sexy chat from early this morning. Unable to resist, I leaned in and whispered, “You look beautiful in my T-shirt.”
A beautiful pink dusted over her cheeks, and I liftedmy fingers to brush it. A spark hissed between us, and Kiera sucked in a breath, making me wonder if that had been her reaction during our seductive text exchange.
“You joining us for dinner?” David asked, intruding on our little world. I’d forgotten why I was at the conference and who I was with.
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