“I haven’t asked anyone.” Mitch propped the manure fork against the wall to take a quick break before he tackled the next stall. “You?”
“No. Not sure I plan to, either.”
Mitch knew the guy had feelings for Trinity, so he was surprised to hear that. “Do most people attend with a date?”
Spencer shrugged and then gave the hammer another swing against the metal. “I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty. But it’s been some time since I’ve even attended. The numbers might have changed over the years.”
With a name like the Sweetheart Soiree, Mitch had just assumed everyone would be paired off.
“You know what you’re wearing yet?” Spencer tapped right next to Alpine’s ankle and the horse obediently lifted his hoof. Spencer picked it up and got back to work.
Mitch hadn’t thought that far ahead. He wasn’t sure he even had any clothing remotely close to formalwear hanging in his closet.
“I probably still need to go shopping, honestly,” he admitted. “I don’t think I have anything suitable for the event.”
“Same.” The cowboy continued working on the shoe, but he looked up at Mitch. “Want to go down to The Dapper Depot with me once we’re all done here?”
Is this what girls felt like shopping for prom dresses? Mitch had to admit he didn’t know the first thing about suits or formal wear. And was it strange that he was a little excited to have afriend accompany him on this quest? He knew he’d never be able to make a decision on his own.
“Actually, that would be great. I can use all the help I can get.”
“I’ll finish up here with Alpine, and you go ahead muck out those last few stalls. Then we’ll head into town. We’ve got a dance to get ready for.”
There were so many mirrors.Too many. It felt like one of those funhouses, the repeated image of Mitch donning a too constricting suit echoed over and over.
“How does that one feel?” Darla, the owner of the menswear store located just to the left of the Cornerstone Café hollered through the dressing room door. “Better than the last?”
Mitch wasn’t sure. Both suits had been too stiff for his liking. Maybe it was the vest that seemed to bind him in the way he imagined a corset must feel. Or maybe it was the tie that he’d embarrassingly forgotten how to knot. Maybe it was the whole thing altogether.
Spencer had already settled on his attire, a blue and cream plaid sport coat, dark denim, his tried-and-true cowboy boots, and a pair of fashionable suspenders for flair. It fit his entire look and persona to a T.
But Mitch didn’t have a signature style. Other than his station pants, he mostly wore whatever felt comfortable. And this wasn’t it.
“Would you like me to take a look?” Darla suggested. “Or find you something else?”
“If you have something a little less…suit-like, that would be great.”
They’d actually started off with a tuxedo, cummerbund and all. That was entirely too sophisticated for Mitch. He would stickout like a sore thumb, and while he wanted to look presentable—even nice, if possible—he didn’t want to be overdressed.
Moments later, Darla returned just as Mitch had managed to peel himself out of the too small suit.
“Try these.” She tossed an outfit over the door, holding onto it until Mitch could reach for the hangers. “It’s not a suit, per se, but I think each individual piece works well together.”
Mitch transferred the clothing to the hooks on the wall and took inventory. A soft looking gray sweater that zipped all the way down in the front, a crisp white dress shirt, and a pair of khaki slacks that were a step up from everyday wear.
Comfortable without being too casual, the ideal outfit in his mind. And when he buttoned the shirt up and zipped the sweater, pulling on the pants before stepping back and taking a look in the dizzying mirrors, he felt right in his element. This was the one.
“Let’s see, buddy,” Spencer said from the other side of the door.
Mitch didn’t want to put on a fashion show but supposed he should get his new friend’s opinion just to be sure. He unlatched the door.
“Looking good.” Spencer gave a nod as he stood from the chair he’d been waiting in. “Much better than all of those stuffy suits. This is more your style. Why don’t you get changed out of that and we can get things squared away at the register because I don’t know about you, but I could sure use something to eat.” He rubbed his belly. “Cornerstone Café?”
Mitch had been able to smell the greasy yet appetizing aroma wafting from the diner when they’d trudged up the walk and into the clothier. Lunch was definitely next on the agenda.
Deciding to carry their new purchases with them in garment bags instead of stowing them in Spencer’s truck, the two entered the restaurant and were seated at a table right by the frontwindow. Mitch folded his clothing bag over the back of his chair, and Spencer did the same.
He was so hungry he didn’t even scan the menu offerings, just ordered the day’s special: a French Dip with sweet potato fries and apple coleslaw. Spencer repeated the order for himself, swapping out the fries for garlic ones instead.
