Pepper, the Highlander & the Dead Guy - Page 21

“You’ll do fine, don’t worry about it,” Amy ordered once again.

I reluctantly slipped out of my trusty gray shirt into the white one that I was doomed to ruin.

“You want just above casual and yet a style that enhances your personality,” Amy explained, though I had no idea what she was talking about. Grab n’ go, that was my style.

She fussed, adjusting the long-sleeved shirt with pewter buttons that had been a present from I couldn’t remember who.

“Whoa!” I said, raising my hand in her face. “Pink? Me? I don’t think so.”

“I gave this plush vest to you for a reason. It’s a perfect style and color for you—pale pink—and has pockets and zippers you can use since you refuse to carry a purse. Now put it on.”

Once again, I obeyed, though even more reluctantly than I did with the shirt. When she went to drape a scarf around my neck, I backed away and she shook her head yet again.

“The watercolor print, navy blue, white, and touches of light blue, make the outfit pop, though that wouldn’t matter to you. For you, it serves a more practical purpose. It will hide any food you may drop on your shirt.”

I stepped forward. “You sold me.”

I was grateful when she retrieved a pair of faux lizard skin flats and not heels from my closet, not that I owned many heels.

“Comfort, since necessity isn’t an issue,” Amy said.

I understood that. If you were dating a short guy, it could prove emasculating to some men to tower over them, while others didn’t care. I had no problem with that since Ian had enough height over me. Besides, I’d rather be comfortable than fashionable.

I caught Amy eyeing my hair. I tugged at my long, tightly wound braid. “Not changing it.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Amy agreed. “You wouldn’t be you without your hair braided or in a ponytail.

I smiled and hugged her. “Thanks for fashioning me up.”

“Don’t I always?” she said with a laugh.

“True. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And that was the truth. Amy was my sister in every sense of the word.

Mo’s bark had Amy screeching like a young girl who was about to meet her heartthrob.

“He’s here!” She ran out of the bedroom.

I shook my head. “You’d think it was her who had the date with Mr. Cover Model.”

“I wish,” she called back, having heard me.”

“So do I,” I yelled after her and braced myself for the night ahead.

I kept my mouth tightly closed before I glanced at Ian, after seeing that Amy stood with her jaw practically dropped to the floor. I turned to Ian and struggled not to react. There was no getting around that the guy was gorgeous. His dark hair lay untamed to his shoulders and there was a faint scruff to his jaw. He wore dark jeans and a white shirt that molded to his defined chest and a mahogany leather sports jacket that looked tailored for his trim and fit build. That he looked well put together was an understatement. But the thing I liked best about him was that he was giving Mo a good rub behind the ear, his favorite spot, and he didn’t mind Roxie winding around his legs. I was glad he hadn’t chased them away and that he seemed to genuinely like them.

“You look good, Pep,” Ian said with a smile that had Amy looking as if she was about to melt.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, glad he didn’t tell me I looked beautiful. I hated when men tried to stroke a woman’s ego for their own means.

Ian held out his arm. “Shall we go, I’m starving.”

“I am too,” I said and wrapped my arm around his. “Don’t wait up,” I teasingly remarked to Amy as we walked out.

I couldn’t believe he actually walked me to the passenger side of the car and held the door open for me. I mean who does that nowadays?

Once in the driver’s seat he asked, “Will Amy really be waiting here for you when you get home?”

I was about to answer when I thought of something. “Are you asking because you have plans on staying the night with me, because if that’s the case I can tell you right now that there’ll be no hanky panky going on between us tonight.”

“Hanky panky?” he asked, looking as if I had spoken a foreign language to him.

“Oh God, I’m talking like my mother.” I shook my head and felt my cheeks turn red.

“Do you mean there’ll be no sex between us tonight?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“No sex,” I confirmed with a shake of my head and without looking at him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, though ah cannae say I didn’t think about it, but I would no’ say no if invited.” He turned to look at me after starting the car, waiting for me to look at him, and I turned my head and met his eyes. “And just so you know, Pep, it wouldn’t be sex we’d be having, I’d be making love to you.”

Tags: Donna Fletcher Romance
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