Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

Working at Kinleigh’s was dangerous for my wallet. I liked too much of what she sold. Her funky, eclectic aesthetic was right up my alley.

“I bet it would on you too. Here, try it on.” She was already shrugging it off.

August cleared his throat. “This is my cue to go.”

He split in a hurry, just as Caleb did when I started talking about clothes.

I backed away. “No, really. I can’t keep taking the merchandise from paying customers.” I released a helpless laugh as she blew back her red curls so like her daughter’s and helped me into it. “I suppose trying it on doesn’t hurt, and it is my size—” I broke off, frowning, as I pulled on the jacket.

It didn’t close.

I tugged harder. The sides grew closer together, but not as much as they should have. My breasts strained against the denim as if I was trying to squeeze into a size too small.

My bras had seemed snugger lately. I’d been eating extra snacks on breaks, and before bed, I’d enjoyed a bit more chocolate-covered popcorn than usual. Still, nothing that should have me busting through sizes.

“Oh, this must be odd sizing.” Ivy yanked at the hem, as if that would help. “But man, I’m jealous of your figure. I bet you never had to stuff your bra with socks like I did before I finally developed.”

“No, but I’m not usually this chesty. This is…whoa.” Now that I was looking more closely in the mirror, I realized my V-neck top was almost pornographic if I bent down even a centimeter.

Had it always been that way, and I’d just been oblivious?

“Oh, no.”

I glanced at Ivy. Though she was pale to begin with, her cheeks had gone translucent. “It’s okay. I’m not going to have a meltdown. Just need to cut back on the wine consumption with my bestie Ryan. She isn’t in turmoil anymore now that’s she worked everything out with Preston. She’s in luuuurve. Lucky bish.” I feigned a breezy laugh.

Ivy was nodding so much that she reminded me of one of those bobble-head dolls. “Right. Love is nice. Boobs are nice too. I should buy a push-up bra. After babies, things start heading south, not that you need to know that. Hey, look at these pockets.”

She started unbuttoning the lapel pocket, but I reached up to still her hand with my now freezing fingers. The AC was pumping in here, but it was a warm late September day. Not that I could feel anything other than the ice slicking down my spine.

“I need to sit.”

&nbs

p; “Sure, sure. Here.” Ivy rushed to grab a straight-backed chair and pulled it over to me rather than nudging me toward the chair.

It was a smart move, since the second I sat, a wave of dizziness poured over me. I bent to put my head between my knees.

Caleb’s sister crouched at my side and rubbed my arm, making soft, comforting noises while my rioting stomach decided now was a fine time to act up. A metallic flavor filled my mouth as I hurtled up from the chair and ran across the shop, passing the changing rooms to reach the bathroom in the back.

On the way, I went by our sweet new sales associate, Brynn Bowman, who’d just started an hour ago. Not even. She had the misfortune to be wheeling a rack of discarded clothes from the changing room at that very moment, and I had no choice but to shove the thing out of my way on my flight to the sink.

I couldn’t even chance yelling back an apology. Not if I wanted to keep Kinleigh’s spotless floors clean.

Please, goddess, just let me get to the sink.

The last thing I heard before I flung myself at the bathroom door was Brynn shrieking.

Shit.

I raced into the one-stall bathroom—thank heavens it was empty—and tossed every crumb in my stomach into the tiny basin.

It seemed to go on forever. When I was finally done, I turned on the faucet and let the cold water run over my hands before I soaped them thoroughly.

I looked up in the mirror to see Ivy standing behind me, her big blue eyes miserable.

Because she knew what it meant.

I grabbed a sheaf of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and wiped my face and dried my hands. “Good thing I have mints in my bag.” My voice was too loud in the echoing space. The low music carrying from the speakers in the main part of the store filtered into the room, somehow a counterpoint to my false cheer.