Page 27 of Miss Belief

Thirty minutes later, we were done with dresses—she’d selected four—and moved on to the shoe department. I watched her take stock, looking like she was at a meat counter perusing the ground beef choices instead of picking out shoes. Every woman I knew had a weakness for shoes, but once again, Teagan was proving me wrong.

“The sandals there should do.” She pointed at a black strappy sandal, and the salesman quickly departed to fetch her size. “It’ll go with all of the outfits.”

“You need to find at least four more pair. Casual for the days, and dressed up for the nights.”

“But the black goes with everything.”

“Yes, but you can’t go wearing the same pair of shoes with each outfit. People would notice.” I was trying to save her from any judgment by the other guests. Teagan might have grown up poor, but I didn’t want her to feel lacking in anything at this wedding. I wanted her to feel like she belonged.

“We wouldn’t want that. Okay, fine, I’ll pick some more.”

We were in and out of the shoe department in record time with a less-than-happy Teagan holding her purchases. I suspected the next chore would probably send her through the roof.

“You’ll need a bikini or two. And other beach stuff.”

Her glare would’ve slayed a lesser man.

I was not a lesser man. And frankly, the prospect of seeing Teagan in a bikini wasn’t such a hardship. “It’s a beach wedding, which means there will be a beach.”

She rolled her eyes. “Designer beachwear? There’s such a thing?”

“Indeed. And it’ll include new sunglasses, a hat, and a cover-up. Then we’ll go over to the purses. You’ll need one for day and a couple for night.”

Her narrowed gaze made me grin.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

“Lead on, but know I’m getting my revenge tomorrow night after work.”

“At the gym?”

She smirked. “You will only wish it was the gym.”