The green one fit even better somehow, and when I came out, Marie wolf-whistled.
"Lord have mercy, Winnie, you sure he's not a model?"
"Used to be," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "Did some campaigns in college."
"Well, it shows. You wear clothes well." Marie handed me more options. "Try these Wranglers—they're built for workin', not just lookin' pretty, but they'll fit you right."
The jeans were stiffer than my designer ones, more structured, but when I tried them on, they fit like they were made for me. Comfortable but tough, meant to last.
By the time we finished, I had a pile:
Six pearl-snap shirts in various colors
Four pairs of Wranglers
Two flannel shirts for cooler mornings
A proper leather belt with a simple buckle
Work gloves (finally)
A new pack of white undershirts (the actual work kind)
And a pair of Ariat work boots that Marie promised would "change my life."
"You need a hat," Winnie said as we approached the checkout.
"A cowboy hat?"
"You're in Oklahoma, working on a ranch. Yeah, a cowboy hat." She led me to a display of hats in various styles and colors. "Try this one."
She pulled down a black felt hat and held it out. I took it, feeling ridiculous, and put it on.
"Adjust it," she said, stepping closer. She reached up, her hands brushing my hair as she tilted the brim. "Tilt it back a little—there. Now that's a cowboy."
I looked in the nearby mirror and... holy shit. I looked hot as hell. Between the pearl snap shirt, the Wranglers, and the hat, I would actually fuck myself. Like I could walk into any bar in town and fit right in.
"I'll take it," I said.
At checkout, Marie rang everything up while making small talk with Winnie about the ranch, the weather, some rodeo coming up that Winnie was apparently competing in. I handed over my credit card (my father hadn't frozen it yet, thankfully) and tried not to wince at the total.
Which was... actually way less than I expected.
"That's it?" I asked, staring at the receipt.
Marie laughed. "Honey, you're not in Dallas anymore. We sell quality stuff at real prices."
"Everything I just bought would've cost three times that in the city."
"Well, that's why we don't live in the city." She bagged everything up. "You take care now, and welcome to town. You need anything, you just come see me."
"Thank you. Really."
Outside, as we loaded the bags into Winnie's truck, I noticed people were definitely staring. Two older women whispered to each other while looking directly at us. A group of guys about my age sized me up from across the parking lot. A teenager very obviously took a photo on her phone.
"Told you," Winnie muttered, slamming the tailgate. "Small town celebrity status."
"Is it always like this?"
