Cowboy Baby Daddy

r /> “I’m sure you don’t struggle in that department, Christian,” she said.

I looked over at my stepsister, who was fondling a pitch-black suit jacket, and I studied her intently. I looked for anything that could’ve signaled the fact that she was making a joke at my expense or throwing out some sort of covert insult, but all I saw was the softness of her features. Her fingers, light and nimble, wandered over the buttons of the jacket, and I watched as she plucked it from the rack and held it up for me to see.

“What do you think about this color black?” she asked.

“There’s more than one color black?” I asked.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” the stylist said. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Stella handed the suit coat to the man before he led me back to the changing rooms, but all I wanted to do was crane my neck back and keep looking at Stella. In all my life, I’d never seen her this relaxed. She seemed happy. Content. In her element in a way I never would have suspected.

“First, I’ll get your measurements, then you’ll try this coat on. We’ll fool with the fit later. Right now, I want to learn what colors look best on you,” the stylist said.

I held my arms out while he took measurements, and I looked at myself in the mirror while he jotted things down. He took my measurements three separate times, having me stand in three different positions, and by the time he was done be looked satisfied.

“I’m going to go see what your lovely friend has picked out for you, and we’ll nail down some colors that will go wonderfully with that dirty blond hair of yours.”

“Here, I’ll come with you,” I said. “She’ll pick out ridiculous stuff for me if I don’t monitor her.”

“Oh, we’re just going for color. Not style right now,” the stylist said.

But I was already pushing past him to get back to Stella. By the time I rounded the corner, Stella was coming around as well, and we ran into one another. It caused the coats she had picked out to fall to the floor, but the sound that fell from her lips was not the one I expected.

The Stella I knew would’ve gotten angry. She would’ve scolded me or told me to watch where I was going. The Stella I grew up with would’ve chided me for not being more careful or watchful of others.

But this Stella laughed. She bent down and picked up the suit coats with a sparkle of happiness in her eye, and that’s when I realized how light green her eyes were. Usually, people with green eyes had those stormy, raging green eyes that held mystery and caution. But, Stella’s green eyes were light and playful, sparkling with her smile while I helped her pick up the coats.

“I’m so sorry, Stella,” I said.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. You know, you’ve never watched where you’re going. I should’ve been keeping an eye out for you,” she said.

Our fingers touched picking up the last coat, and I felt a shock of electricity jump up my arm. I was painfully aware of how glistening black Stella’s hair was and how soft and supple the tips of her fingers had felt against my hand. I ripped mine back, allowing her to pick the last suit up off the ground before we headed back to the dressing room, but all I could do was take steady breaths in an attempt to calm my racing mind.

What the fuck was going on?

“Let’s try these colors on first to get an idea,” Stella said as she handed the coats to the stylist. “If there’s a style that looks especially dapper on him, clock it. Otherwise, just stick to what looks good with the undertones of his skin.”

“Undertones of my skin?” I asked. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means you’re going to look hot in whatever suit you walk out of here with,” Stella said.

I caught her gaze as a grin slowly brushed her cheeks. She tapped the door before she shut it, closing me in with the stylist, and he held up a dark red coat to my body while we analyzed what looked the best.

“Not good on your skin,” the stylist said. “How do you feel about dark blue or black?”

“No blues. I’m always in blue because of my eyes,” I said. “But, let’s try the black.”

He held it up to my body, and both of us took a second to process it. I didn’t know what he was looking at, but all I was looking at was the glistening black buttons of the coat. They were smooth and shining, just like the fabric of the suit itself, and it reminded me of Stella’s hair.

Why the hell did it matter if it reminded me of Stella’s hair?

“I kind of like this one,” the stylist said. “What do you think?”

“I like it. Are there pants in this same color and fabric? Maybe with a light green tie or something?”

What the fuck was I even talking about?

“Oh, a stark black suit with a pale color underneath. I like it. Especially since your hair is lightly colored. It would be a good contrast to your eyes. You’d look like a shark in the business world.”