Samson scowls. “Skirts are cooler than pants, that’sall.” The last word leaves him like a growl.
Ines slaps a hand to her mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought we were shopping for Citrus. You should have let me know you wanted an overall dress for yourself. Summerwillbe here before we know it, and you deserve something cool and comfortable to wear, too.”
Samson…in a…
No.
Bad brain.
“Can you not behave yourself for five minutes?” Samson grouches.
“Icould, but how boring would that be?”
“Ilikeboring.”
Ines tuts, pulling her notepad out and scribbling. “Don’t insult Citrus like that.” She looks at me, chipper, while Samson sinks into the couch, muttering about regrets and this being why he doesn’t talk to people. “Are you sure you only want work clothes? Sammy is taking care of the bill.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
Samson growls, “Can you keepnothingto yourself, Nes?”
“He’sloaded. He could buy you my entire catalog. Closets full of pretty dresses—isn’t that just the dream?”
He twitches. “I don’tdomuch, so I’ve saved a decent amount of money, in the case of an emergency, or…anything else that requires money.”
“‘Anything else’? Like clothing your brand new, poverty-stricken neighbor.” Ines nods, sagely. “So platonic.”
“I will strangle you if you don’t shut up.”
“Hot.”
A throaty, gruff noise escapes the poor man before he gives Ines and I his back, tucks his arms together, and sulks.
“Now that it’s just the two of us…” Ines flips to a few pages that turn my entire body into pudding. “What are we thinking?” She taps a nail tip to something that might be entirely made of three strips of lace. “Sexy or—” She directs my attention to an adorable underwear set themed around clouds. “—sweet?”
I stammer, “D-do you have anything n-normal, maybe?”
A tiny frown replaces all her glee. “Normal?” She scoffs. “Don’t insult me. I’m an artist. You have to wear underwear, lovely, and in a town as small as this one, everything’s made-to-order. Why not opt for cute and comfortable?”
Um. I dunno. Maybe becauseI am choking on my heartbeat, flicking my gaze to Samson’s back every two seconds, and trying to maintain survival. “N-no offense, but, um, th-that first option doesn’t look entirely comfortable?”
“It is. Promise. I’m wearing it right now. Epitome of comfort.”
My mouth drops open and stays gaping.
Ines sighs. “Fineee. I have some children’s designs in here somewhere, for Peggy. They might have ducklings on them. Pegs loves ducklings. Aren’t you lucky?”
Stomach flipping, I bite my cheek, swallow my anxiety, and whisper a shaking, “N-no. I’m…I’m sorry. I don’t want children’s underwear. Please.”
Ines stares, into me and through me, like she does, yet again. Then her lips quirk, and she elbows Samson in the back. “She begs nice. Luckyyou.”
I am going to die here.
Right on this couch.
I will melt into the cushions, like a lost phone, never to be seen again.
In half a second, Samson isup, Ines issnatched, and I am gaping as he trucks her out of the living room and into his bedroom.
