I can’t just leave them out—that seems a little too intimate—but I don’t want them mixed in with my other clothes, because that’s gross.
“Mandy,” Salinger barks.
I quickly stuff the pale-pink cotton behind the toilet then step back into the hallway.
When I stand for inspection in front of Salinger again, his cold gaze slowly flicking over me, cataloging me, criticizing me, I feel completely naked. I have never gone out in public without a bra and definitely not underwear. Ever.
“My mother would have a heart attack if she saw me,” I say, desperately trying to cut the tension. Clasping my hands behind me, I try to will myself to stop shaking.
Salinger approaches me, footfalls methodical as he slowly circles me. He picks a piece of dog hair off the dress sleeve. “At least you don’t look cheap.”
“This is a very expensive dress.” My voice is still trembling.
He steps in front of me, pulls a flat gray box out of his jacket. “Jewelry. Put it on. It’s expensive. Don’t lose it.”
Hands still shaking, I try to put on the dangling earrings, managing to stab both my finger and my ear.
“For fuck’s sake.” Roughly, his larger hand grabs mine, twisting the earring out of it.
There’s a slight breeze on my neck, then his fingers brush my cheek. He tucks one of my tangled curls behind my ear then deftly fastens one earring. Still behind me, he moves to the other ear.
My heart isthump-tha-thumpingin my chest. I’m sure he can hear it. I’m going to faint, and it’s not going to be like in those Victorian romance novels I used to sneak from my grandmother’s bookcase. There will be puke.
His warm fingers barely brush the back of my neck as cool metal is laid on my collarbones. He clasps the necklace then adjusts it slightly. It’s heavy and smooth between the V of the dress.
The dazzling diamonds reflect in his eyes as he regards me. There’s something dangerous coiled behind those gray eyes as they assess the jewelry draped on me.
His breath hisses out. “I can’t believe…” He shakes his head. “Those diamonds are wasted on you.”
I wish he had just hit me. It’s just like I always feared—that I am not actually pretty, that putting on a nice dress, fancy shoes, and expensive jewelry has turned out just like Martha the mean girl from high school always said—about as worthless as dressing up a hippo.
Salinger doesn’t think I’m attractive at all. And he’s right.
No. He is not right.I glance at my reflection in the window. I look pretty dang good. I don’t need a man to give me self-worth. I straighten up, stick my chest out like Gran always said. “So what’s next, boss? Do I get a fur coat?”
That just earns me more bared teeth from Salinger. His arm is stiff. The cuff link on his wrist glints as he checks the time.
“We’re late. Get your worthless dog, and let’s go.” He turns on his heel.
I rush after him. The heel of my shoe catches on the hem of the dress. Salinger grabs my arm as I stumble.
“Watch it.” The words carry a dangerous promise. “Next time you trip, I’m just letting you fall. Now move.”
Pepper is sprawled out on her back next to the unlit fireplace.
“Pepper.” I snap my fingers.
She ignores me.
“Pepper, I know you’re not asleep—you’re not snoring. Let’s go.” Kneeling down, I wrap my arms around her, whispering, “Pepper.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind me.
Ignoring Salinger, I whisper, “Please? I know you’re the worst emotional-support dog ever, but I need a win here, okay?”
The dog rouses, rolling over and yawning.
“Okay, see? She’s ready to go. She’s had her power nap,” I say with forced cheerfulness as I fluff out her fur.
