“Because it’s not appropriate. Right now, everything’s very nineties. Slip dresses and camis, that sort of thing.”
Cameron picks up the dress and tosses it over his shoulder. “Now shoes,” he declares.
“What?”
“Shoes. Go find them. Pink ones.”
“Um, I don’t need any pink shoes…
“Your shoes got ruined,” he says. “Because of me. Didn’t show you where the path was, and they got in the mud.” His face darkens. “Your favourite ones.”
“Oh, that’s okay?—”
“Summer.” Alec’s voice deepens with an authority that sends a tingle down my spine. “Go find shoes. Now.”
I’m moving before I even know what’s happening, Fraser’s laughter echoing behind me.
FIFTY
CAMERON
The benches in the changing rooms are made for toddlers, so I lean against the wall as Summer tries on the clothes, taking my weight off my aching leg. My wooden cane is propped up next to me. Don’t use it often. I don’t usually need it—and I prefer to have my hands free on the farm—but it comes in handy on days like today. My knee is still weak, and it throbs with every step I take.
I don’t care. The pain is familiar. What isn’t familiar is the feeling that’s lodged itself inside of my chest. Like there’s something stuck in there. I hear fabric rustle as Summer changes in the cubicle, and the feeling just gets bigger, crushing my lungs.
She’s been really happy today.
A few feet away, Fraser sprawls across the bench, fiddling with his phone. Alec is sitting next to him, frowning at a crumpled piece of paper he’s pulled out of his pocket. I’ve spotted him glaring at it several times today.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He blinks. “Nothing.” He tucks it away. “Just something Isla gave me.”
Annoyance banks in me. He’s lying. Something’s wrong. He’s been abnormally distracted ever since we got back from the pub. Before I can push him, my phone buzzes. I pull it out. An email notification shines up at me.
SUBJECT: Thank you for your application to MacIntyre Farm - Request to Interview.
Ah, shit. I’d forgotten about the job applications I rage-sent last night. “We need to talk,” I tell Alec. “When we get home.”
His head jerks up. “About what?”
“Work.” I shove the phone back in my pocket, and my elbow catches my cane, knocking it to the ground. I swear, bending to pick it up, and suddenly Alec is in front of me, grabbing it. I grit my teeth. Ihateother people touching it.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I should have offered you the bench. I wasn’t thinking. Here?—”
He tries to usher me onto the bench. Fraser looks up from his phone and winces. I’m about to bite Alec’s damn head off for treating me like a child when Summer’s voice comes through her cubicle curtain.
“Um, can someone give me a hand in here, please?” she asks.
All three of us look at each other, and then there’s a scramble towards her cubicle. I get there first. As I smugly snap the curtain shut behind me, I get a glimpse of Summer, and everything in me goes still.
She smiles. “Can you help do me up? I can’t do these closures by myself.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. She’s wearing the purple frock she picked out. And it looks…
Ungodly. The fabric floats around her dreamily, and her creamy breasts are half spilling out of the top of the dress. Herblonde hair shimmers like gold. She’s like something from a storybook.
Summer turns her back to me, and I silently do the hooks at the back of the dress. She smooths down the skirt. “It’s sopretty. What do you think?”
