It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)
* * *
“Jeans?”
Piper lifted her chin. “You said whatever I want.”
Enjoying the hell out of himself, Brendan followed Piper through the aisles of the classy Pacific Place shop, watching her ass punch side to side in her pink skirt. She was so in her element among the mannequins and racks of clothes, he was glad as hell he’d pushed to go shopping. As soon as they’d walked through the doors, salesgirls had descended on his girlfriend and they were already on a first-name basis, running off to retrieve a stack of jeans in Piper’s size.
“Of course, you can get whatever you want,” he said, trying to keep from knocking over racks with his wide shoulders. “I just figured you’d go straight for the dresses.”
“I might have.” She sent him a haughty look over her shoulder. “If I didn’t remember you sarcastically asking me if I owned a pair of jeans.”
“The night you went dancing at Blow the Man Down?” He thought back. “I didn’t think you recalled half that night.”
“Oh, only the important parts,” she said. “Like backhanded slights against my wardrobe.”
“I like your . . . wardrobe.” All right, then. He used the word “wardrobe” now. With a straight face, too, apparently. “In the beginning, I thought it was . . .”
“Ridiculous?”
“Impractical,” he corrected her firmly. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
“You just like my clothes now because you get to take them off.”
“That doesn’t hurt. But mainly, they’re you. That’s the real reason.” He watched the salesgirl approach with an armload of jeans and just barely stopped himself from barking at her to go away. “I like the things that make you Piper. Don’t go changing them now.”
“I’m not changing anything, Brendan,” she said, and laughed, pulling him into the dressing-room area. “But I can only get away with dresses for so long. It’s going to be fall soon, in the Pacific Northwest.”
The salesgirl breezed in behind them and ushered Piper away, putting her in the closest dressing room with a half-dozen pairs of jeans of various colors and styles. Then she pointed at a tiny, feminine chair, wordlessly implying that Brendan should sit—and he did, awkwardly, feeling a lot like Gulliver. “Is this what it’s like when you go shopping in LA?” he asked Piper through the curtain.
“Mmmm. Not exactly.” She peeked out at him and winked. “I typically don’t have a six-foot-four sea captain along for the ride.”
He made an amused sound. “Does that make it better or worse?”
“Better. Way better.” She pushed back the curtain and walked out in a pair of light-blue painted-on jeans and a black see-through bra. “Ooh, not a fan.” She turned and looked at her butt in the full-length mirror. “Thoughts?”
Brendan dragged his jaw up off the fucking floor. “I’m sorry. How are you not a fan?”
She made a face. “The stitching is weird.”
“The . . . what?” He leaned in for a closer look and immediately got distracted by the ass. “Who gives a shit?”
The salesgirl walked in and tilted her head. “Oh yeah. No. Pass on those.”
Piper nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Are you two playing a joke on me? They’re perfect.”
Both women laughed. Out went the salesgirl. Piper retreated to the changing room. And Brendan was left wondering if he’d taken crazy pills. “Yeah, safe to say this is definitely different than shopping with my friends back in LA. I’m pretty sure half the time they tell me something looks great even when it doesn’t. There’s always a sense of competition. Trying to get the edge.” A zipper went up and he watched her feet turn right, left, right under the curtain, smiling at the sparkly polish on her toes. It was so Piper. “I think maybe shopping hasn’t been fun for a while and I didn’t even realize it. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the clothes. But when I think of going dress hunting with Kirby now, I can’t remember feeling anything. I spent all of that time trying to give myself that first euphoric rush. But . . . I was more excited to get a deal on a fishing net at the harbor supply shop than I was buying my last Chanel bag.”
She gasped.
Alarm snapped Brendan’s spine straight. “What?”
“I think Daniel’s lesson worked.” She pushed aside the curtain, revealing her shocked expression. “I think I might appreciate money now, Brendan.”
If he wasn’t supposed to find her utterly fucking adorable, he was failing miserably.
“That’s great, Piper,” he said gruffly, ordering himself not to smile.
“Yeah.” She pointed down at a pair of dark jeans that molded indecently to her mouthwatering hips. “These are a no, right?”
“They’re a yes.”
She shook her head and closed the curtain again. “And they’re a hundred dollars. I looked at the price tag!” Then she mumbled, “I think that’s a lot?”
His head tipped back. “I make more than that on one crab, Piper.”