Page 11 of Sunshine & Sinful

“Almost done,” I promise.

“No more ties like this,” she grumps.

“Duly noted. I’ll throw them out tonight,” I promise and try to change the subject altogether. “Now, what dessert do you want Sugar to make for you next week?”

“You like chocolate, so something chocolate.”

I chuckle. “She’s a chocolatier. It’s always gonna be chocolate.”

“I like her cakes.”

Me, too.

“Cake it is, then.”

“Can it have Nutella?”

“Yes.”

“Can it have sprinkles?”

I snort. “Yes.” This girl and her sprinkles.

The tie comes free, and I fling the damn thing across the room, never to be seen again. At least, not today.

Lily rubs her newly freed hair.

“Why don’t we finish up here? Then you can come in and help me pick out what I’m wearing to dinner with Todd tonight. Sound good?”

“Yes.” She dusts her hands on her shirt. “I love picking out clothes.”

“I know you do.” I smile.

“Can I pick your makeup, too?”

I nod. “Within reason.”

With renewed excitement and a pep in her step, Lily collects our gloves and tools and puts them by the door, right where they belong. I follow suit, ready to shower and don clothes for my date with Todd at a fancy place I’ve never been to before.

I know I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am.

I haven’t done fancy in a long, long, quadruple-long time.

What in the hell do I wear?

FIVE

“Don’t you think this is too much?” I twirl in the bedroom, showing off the dress Lily picked for me tonight. I hate it. It’s far too much for a dinner date, but she’s all smiles, sitting in the middle of my bed, clapping like a lunatic.

“Twirl one more time,” she demands with a laugh. I do as instructed, even though I want nothing more than to burn this stupid dress. I didn’t even buy it. Sunshine did, like six years ago. Maybe even longer than that. He’d seen it in a window at some shop in some town and gave it to me the next time he visited. It’s been hanging in the back of my closet since. Sentimental value requires me to keep the garment when my personal tastes want nothing more than to cover up. There’s far too much skin, and as a person who likes cropped shirts and shorter dresses, that’s saying something. This has Julia Roberts,Pretty Woman,written all over it. The black lace cocktail dress she wore, only it’s much shorter, a mere five inches from my lady cat, and it’s made so the woman wearing it can’t wear a bra. The neckline, there is none. It dips down the center,separating the sides, reaching almost my navel. To wear this, you need boob tape and lots of it to keep it from playing peek-a-boo with your nips. My areolas are dark. They don’t need to be shared with the rest of the world.

I run my fingers down the lacey middle, in the valley between my breasts. “This is too much,” I explain to Lily for the hundredth time since she had me try it on.

“It’s beautiful.” She sighs dreamily like she wants to be the one wearing it.

“I’m taking it off.” I reach awkwardly around my back to unzip it.

“No!” Lily clambers to her feet and points at me with some serious girl-tude. “It stays. You said I could pick.” Her bottom lip juts into a pout as if that level of cuteness will change my mind.

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