Page 5 of Only Ever His

“Are you the owner?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“Yes.” She looked up, and there was a momentary surprise in her gaze, as if she was unused to being addressed so directly. “How can I help you?”

I tried to read her, looking for cracks in her armor, for any sign that I might gain her trust.

“I’m here for something… unique. Something that only you can recommend,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she studied me.

Her face was a careful mask of politeness, but there was something deeper. Interest, maybe. Or at least curiosity.

“We have several options,” she said. “Our fall collection is fresh off the line.”

“I’ll take a look,” I replied, leaning slightly closer, just enough to be casual, but also to let her feel my presence.

Her gaze flickered, as if deciding whether to engage or keep me at a distance.

She chose the latter, turning to a display without a single hint of interest beyond the professional.

I couldn’t deny how frustratingly enticing that was.

She walked over to a rack of dresses, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

“This one has been popular,” she said, gesturing to a flowing, burgundy dress with delicate lace details. “Perfect for events, dates, formal dinners.”

“Events and dates,” I repeated, considering her carefully. “I could see you in something like that.”

She paused, and for a split second, a crack appeared in her calm demeanor.

A slight stiffening of her shoulders, a quick glance that made me think she was trying to size up my intentions.

“I’m not the type to take my own recommendations,” she said evenly.

I didn’t miss the way she shifted her stance, the way she crossed her arms, creating a physical barrier between us.

I leaned against the counter, keeping my tone light.

“So you’re the type to let others have all the fun?” I asked.

Her eyes met mine, fierce and defiant. “I don’t need clothes for fun, Mr…?”

“Cole Valen,” I answered, watching her face for any sign that she recognized the name.

Nothing. Just that guarded look, a flicker of annoyance, and a sense of mystery I couldn’t quite crack.

“Well, Cole Valen, our shop is meant to give people whattheyneed,” she said, her voice edged with a challenge. “I don’t think that includes being told what to wear.”

“Fair enough,” I said, nodding. “But something tells me there’s more to this place than meets the eye.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that so?”

“I can tell that every detail here has been chosen with purpose. It’s refreshing to see that level of care. Not many places have that. Or people.”

My words hung in the air, charged, and I saw her shift slightly, as if my gaze had brushed too close to something private.

She forced a polite smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you,” she replied, but her voice lacked the warmth that her expression feigned.

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