No arrogance. No smugness. Just straightforward honesty.

“And who are you when you go home?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“That depends,” he says. “Are we talking about my actual home or the one I check into with a key card?”

My stomach flips. No smirk, no cocky remark, just a quiet truth. A sliver of something I wasn’t meant to see. For the first time, when I look at him, he almost looks tired. As if he’s not as put together as he seems, and for a second, he’s not the man in the articles I read about.

I have no idea what to do with that, so I don’t try to force it. “Can you help me find a dress now?”

“It’s a dress. What’s the issue?”

“Everything.”

“That specific?”

I shoot him a look. “Are you going to be helpful?”

Nathan pretends to consider. “I think I’ll judge.”

I cross my arms. “Judge?”

He gestures toward the dressing rooms with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Pick some dresses. I’ll rate them.”

“You are not serious.”

“You’re indecisive. I’m providing you with expert input.

“Expert? At women’s fashion?”

His voice drops low as he leans in. “I know what looks good.”

I roll my eyes instead of shivering because giving this man any tells as to what he does to my body is not good. Not good at all.

“Fine,” I grumble, grabbing a handful of dresses. “But if you make this worse, I’m walking out of this store and straight into traffic.”

Nathan says nothing. He drops into the plush chair like a king waiting to be entertained.

Asshole.

I change into the first dress, take a deep breath, and step out.

Nathan barely glances. “Ten.”

I blink. “Ten? You didn’t even look.”

He tilts his head, eyes dragging down my body in one slow, lethal pass. “Oh, I looked.”

I turn, inspecting myself in the mirror. “Really? Because I think it gives my ass a weird shape.”

“Your ass in that dress is the reason men will forget their wives exist.”

My mouth pops open. “Excuse me?”

He leans back, arms crossed. “You heard me.”

I snap my jaw shut, heat licking at my spine.

Okay. Fine. Round two.