‘I’m buying your dress. It can be part of your Christmas present,’ Nate says as we sidestep a particularly assertive shopper, who charges directly into Nate’s shoulder before bouncing off with a less than festive grunt. Christmas really does bring out the best and the worst in people.
‘Part of my Christmas present?’ I crane my neck to look up at him. ‘What’s the other part?’
His lips quirk upwards and there’s devilment in those liquid emerald eyes. ‘It’s a surprise.’
I offer an exaggerated eye roll in his direction. ‘I’m not good with surprises. Secrets and suspense kill me.’
‘I know.’ He flashes that full on, panty-melting megawatt grin. ‘You, gorgeous girl, can’t even hold up the elastic on those sexy sets of lingerie you insist on teasing me in.’
I squeeze his forearm through his leather jacket. ‘Is it any wonder when my hot boyfriend keeps slipping his skilful hands into them? Those stunts you do on the big screen have nothing on what you’re really capable of.’
Having sex in Nate’s parent’s house while they were downstairs felt like being a naughty teenager again, which served to make me come twice as hard on his expert hand.
When we did emerge from his childhood bedroom, we were met with winks, backslaps (for Nate), nudges (for me), and two hot whiskeys.
If I wasn’t already head over heels in love with Nate, his family would swing it for him. I barely know them, and they welcome me with open arms. I can’t wait to meet his sisters tomorrow.
‘Where to? The quicker we get this dress, the quicker I can get my hands back where they need to be.’ A heated look flashes across his chiselled cheekbones. The man is insatiable. Which, by the way, is an observation, not a complaint.
‘Brown Thomas.’ I nod towards Dublin’s magnificent department store, where I bought the dress that got me into so much trouble all those weeks ago. I can’t bring myself to regret any of it, though, or else I’d never have met Nate. I wouldn’t be about to embark on a career as a full-time artist. And I wouldn’t be about to travel the world with the man of my dreams.
We nudge our way through the crowds, Nate and I both keeping our heads angled towards the ground. The last thing either of us need is to get spotted and mobbed.
Brown Thomas’s huge windows are dressed beautifully with luxury designer stockings dangling beside an enormous white frost-coated fibre optic Christmas tree that my mother would definitely approve of. A lavish display of partially wrapped plush gifts adorn the floor beneath it. Silver glittering bows opened just far enough to reveal the pretty gifts inside, Charlotte Tilbury sparkling gift sets, and a Stella McCartney label peeping out from beneath layer upon layer of crimson silk that just begs to be unwrapped.
‘Come on.’ I tug Nate’s arm impatiently. A blast of hot air hits us full frontal as we pass through the glass double doors and through the perfume section.
Riding the escalator to the second floor, I hold Nate’s hand, grinning like a fool in love.
The second my foot hits the women’s department, I see it.
A metallic, long-sleeved, ruffle trim, woven maxi dress screams at me from the mannequin it hangs on.
The front dips into a deep V, which I already know will perfectly showcase the assets I’m supposed to be embarrassed about, but its long sleeves and floor-length skirt cover everything else, rendering it unquestionably classy.
My feet gravitate towards it, like a magpie flocking to a shiny object. Fingers itch to roam over the shimmering material. When they do, its sheer silkiness makes me gasp.
It is beyond stunning.
I need it.
Flipping the tag between my fingers, I see it’s a Rebecca Vallance. Bracing myself for the price, I suck in a huge breath and flip the tag over.
Two thousand euro.
Fuck.
‘You like it?’ Nate rolls back on his heels and studies my expression thoughtfully.
‘It’s too much.’ I back away from it like it’s an unpredictable animal, not a designer dress.
‘I told you, I’m buying it as part of your Christmas present.’ Nate’s eyes roam around the store floor, presumably searching for a sales assistant.
I yank his arm. ‘No, I have the money, it’s not that. I’ll find something else.’
‘If it’s not the money, then what is it? Your entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when you saw it. What is it?’ A frown creases his forehead.
‘I feel guilty spending that much money on myself when there are people starving in the world.’ My gaze falls to the floor.
