Face flaming, I take a few more steps backward. I can’t even believe her right now. He must be furious.
Ash grabs a gold mask from a jewelry rack. “Good man.”
Apparently not combusted, though kind of wishing I had, I stare, slack-jawed as Ash approaches the cashier.
Ash waves away my bewildered look. “He’s getting it for you.”
“Ash, what the hell?”
She grabs a black leather skirt with a row of shiny metal buttons down the front. “Look at this. Perfect for my sister. Kat’s going to be so pissed.” Ash laughs merrily. “Unofficially, Scotty made me my family’s personal shopper because I’m the only one who loves shopping.” Ash runs a hand over the buttery fabric. “Even if she’s annoyed, Kat will totally wear it. I know her style.”
I’m speechless. Is this for real? She just goes on a spending spree whenever she wants, and her brother is cool with it?
The saleswoman looks between us and the heap of clothing on the counter. “You have some really great pieces.”
“Yes, and I’d love to take them all, but…” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Ash smiles like the spoiled shopaholic I’m starting to suspect she is. “But I need a ‘good customer’ discount. I’m thinking thirty percent.”
“Ash, the slip dress is going back,” I hiss, my discomfort blossoming into a panicky feeling. I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. Pushing him into buying me clothes is totally sketchy. I retrieve the lingerie dress from the collection. “Even with thirty-percent off, this would still be over a thousand.”
“Sixteen-ten,” Ash says with a click of her fingers as she grabs the hanger. “And no, it’s not going back.”
What the what? I blink at Ash doing the math in her head like Barbie Savant.
“Okay,Sixteen hundred.Jamie won’t?—”
She turns, pinning me with her china blue eyes. “Listen, Seesaw.” Something in her voice snaps me out of my downward spiral. “Jamie makes a ton of money now. Way more than I do.” She gestures toward the clothing. “He can afford to buy you a dress, and heshouldbecause you make his eyes light up, which is not something that usually happens with him.”
My spirits lift, and a small smile threatens.
“Life is so fucking fleeting.” A rare, stoic expression flashes across Ash’s face that makes me wonder what she’s seen to feel that way. Then I remember her dad died young.
The saleswoman clears her throat, breaking the moment.
Smiling once more, Ash clasps my shoulder. “Jamie needs to enjoy his money, and buying you a beautiful dress will make him happy.Especiallyif you act all sweet and grateful.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s what guys crave. Trust me.”
The cool satin warms in my hands by the time she stops talking. She takes the dress and lays it firmly on the pile.
Ash gives the saleswoman the full-force of her charismatic presence, leaving me speechless while she negotiates a ridiculous deal that leaves me feeling one more thing—guilt over the way she steamrolls the saleswoman.
“Here.” Ash hands me one of her bags. “Take this.” Grabbing the others, Ash hustles to the door.
“Why are we running?” I brace against the cold as we exit the shop and head toward Ash’s Camaro parked out front.
“Because…” Ash opens the door and tosses the fortune in designer clothing onto the back seat. Pausing to rest her arms on the roof, Ash smirks. “While guys like Jaime have no problem throwing down cash for pretty things, theyhateto be kept waiting.” She winks. “Trust me.”
* * *
When I leavethe dorm with my overnight bag, the sun has set, so the path lights are on, casting moody shadows around the campus. I’m anxious about the reception I’m going to get from Jamie.
If he’s furious, it doesn’t show as he stands a few feet from the resident hall’s main door. Passing girls look over their shoulders to check him out. I want to flip the gawkers off, but he doesn’t really belong to me, so I don’t.
Looking like a Ralph Lauren model, Jaime takes my backpack and guides me toward the parking lot nearest the dorm.
“I’m sorry about the phone call. I swear I didn’t tell Ash I was seeing you tonight. Or that I wanted you to buy me a dress.” My nerves, getting the better of me, have gone full babble mode. “We were shoppingfor her, but when I told her I needed to go home because I was going out, she grabbed my phone. She’s so?—”
“I know all about my cousin. Enough about her.” He hefts the bag. “So, did you bring the dress to model it?”
“No, it’s up in the room.” Does he think I’m insane? I would never wad up a sixteen-hundred-dollar designer dress and shove it in my backpack. “And you don’t really need to pay for it. I’m going to take it back.”
