Page 31 of Daring the Defender

“For the next three weeks you’re living the life of a college student. You should dress like one.” He looks up at me and winks. “Only better.”

I follow him through the store as he picks through racks and piles items in my arms. Occasionally he’ll ask me a question, about color or size, but apparently I’m in his hands.

“Okay,” he says, carrying everything back to the dressing room. “Try those on.”

I stare at clothes. It’s a hodge-podge of everything, including velvet and leather. “All of them?”

“Yep.”

Who does this guy think he is? “What are you going to do?”

He nods at a purple chaise lounge, “I’ll wait here and you can model them for me.”

I blink, but he seems completely confident in this plan, and as he settles on the chair, crossing his boot clad feet at the ankles, I give up and head into the dressing room. I quickly undress, kicking off the skirt and unbuttoning my blouse. My white bra and panties reflect back at me in the mirror and I consider that if Reid saw these he’d be horrified at the plainness. I bet Darla or any other girl he’s been with would wear something sexy and provocative.

Quickly, I change into the first outfit. The sweater is robin's-egg blue, ridiculously soft and oversized, with a wide neck that creeps over my shoulder while the pants are low waisted jeans that fit tight over my hips and butt but flare at the bottom.There’s a swath of exposed skin between my top and the waistband of the jeans, that feels scandalous.

“How’s it going?” he calls from outside.

“Fine.”

“Let’s see.”

I walk out with one arm around my waist and another clutching the neck of the sweater in place. Reid’s eyebrow raises. “Hands down, please.”

Reluctantly I drop both and feel every inch of my body itch under his scrutiny. He reaches out and yanks the sweater back over my shoulder, shifting it into place, then he asks, “What do you think?”

“David would hate this.” He’d think it’s flashy and attention getting. Tacky.

“Well, David isn’t here,” Reid says, “and I don’t give a fuck about what he would think. What doyouthink?”

I catch my reflection in a mirror behind him. The outfit is different from anything I’ve ever worn before. There’s no pretense, like I’m trying to present something to the world, but more than that, for once in my life, I’m trying to fit in. “It’s warm.”

“Of course it’s warm. Do you like the color?”

“Yes.”

His eyes skim down to my hips. “And the jeans?”

“They’re tight,” I admit, running my hands down my sides.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“A different way, I guess.” I twist and look at my reflection. “I’ve just always worn skirts and dresses. It wasn’t exactly a rule, but the alternative was frowned upon.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asks, looking like he’s unsure if he should speak it.

“Sure.”

“They make your ass look spectacular.”

“Oh.” My body goes through a series of acrobatics. Heart skipping, stomach flipping, skin burning. “Well, thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” He looks instantly regretful. “Nevertell your brother I said that.”

I flash him a grin. “Not a chance.”

“Okay go try on the other stuff I picked out and we can get out of here.”

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