Authors: Kate Perry
Project Daddy (8 page)
His breath tickled me in a funny way I ignored. I had bigger fish to fry. “There’s no way I’m wasting my money on casual clothes.”
“You won’t be wasting your money. Look at it as an investment.”
I stared back at him suspiciously. “How do you mean?”
“You’ll have better success collecting your list if you’re a little less”—he cleared his throat—“up-tight looking. I mean, come on, Kat—how many people wear suits to the park on Sunday?”
Maybe he had a point. I pouted. “You think I’ll be more successful?”
“Definitely.”
Luc wouldn’t lie to me, so I relaxed. A tiny bit. I wasn’t happy that I’d have to waste money on clothes I didn’t want. Maybe I could expense them?
Then I became conscious of the press of his front against my back and I flushed. Bright red, I’m sure.
I eased away. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Luc smiled, full and bright, making me feel like a jerk for resisting when he was obviously so looking forward to outfitting me.
A saleswoman chose that moment to approach us. “What can I help you with today?”
I glanced at Luc and shrugged. This was his thing. I had no idea where to start.
Luc tapped his chin with one long finger. “Let’s start with jeans.”
Jeans. I felt excited despite myself. I hadn’t owned a pair of jeans since college, and those I bought secondhand from the thrift store for a buck fifty. They gave me bubble butt.
“Of course.” She smiled at him like she wanted to offer him a whole lot more than denim. I resisted scratching her eyes out. “Is there a style you had in mind?”
“What would you suggest?”
Luc and the woman stood back and eyed me up and down. I couldn’t help fidgeting. “Did you know one bolt of denim weighs about a quarter of a ton?”
They ignored me, talking about me like I wasn’t present.
“She has a very nice figure. I think.” The woman frowned. “That suit doesn’t do a thing for her. The skirt should be at least two inches shorter.”
Gasping, I held my skirt in place. They weren’t touching my suit. No way. DKNY was sacred. Sure, I’d got it cheap from an outlet because the lining on one sleeve was sewn wrong so it bunched in the armpit, but still.
Luc nodded. “Do you think you can do something with her?”
“It’s a challenge, but I think we can manage.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe some brighter colors too? The gray of her suit washes her out.”
“Hmm.” Luc nodded. “I especially like dark greens on her.”
I huffed and crossed my arms. “Hey. Remember me? The guinea pig? I’m still here. No need to talk about me like I’m invisible.”
They barely glanced at me before they moved to a rack and began rifling through clothes.
Hmm. Fine. I wrinkled my nose at them before attacking one of the racks myself. (Really, I wanted to stick my tongue out at them, but that would have been childish.) I’d show them, though—I’d pick out my own clothes.
I shoved some shirts aside to get to the pants hanging behind them. Green camo. Eew. But they had lots of pockets—the better to carry my handheld, a notepad, and other necessities. I took it out and searched for the price tag.
Shit! I quickly put them back before I got my fingerprints on them and had to buy them.
Who paid that much money for a pair of pants? Even if they had lots of storage space.
I turned around to tell Luc I’d changed my mind, that I’d make do with the clothes I had (I could dress down my suits by wearing flatter heels), but I didn’t get a chance. The saleswoman intercepted me, held my arm firmly, and guided me toward a set of doors in the back.
Somehow I knew that if I passed those doors I’d never make it out alive, so I began to struggle. “This isn’t a good idea. I don’t need jeans. I’m sorry to waste your time—”
“It’s no trouble. I love helping moths metamorphose into butterflies.”
I wanted to tell her it was caterpillars that turned into butterflies, but I was too distracted by the doors looming on my horizon. I tugged my arm. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t mind being a moth.”
Her grip tightened. Damn, she was strong. “You’re a butterfly in moth’s clothing.”
Before I could scream for Luc, she shoved me into a dressing room and closed the door. I could be wrong, but I swear I heard a lock slide into place.
I looked around for a way out, but the walls were all the way to the ceiling. The only thing in there was a chair that’d look great in Lydia’s office, a mirror, and a truckload of clothes hanging on a rack.
Shit.
The mirror. If I slammed the chair through it, I could use one of the shards to slit my wrists. Only then there’d be a big mess to clean up and, because I hate housekeeping so much myself, I couldn’t put that burden on anyone else.
I sighed, glanced at the clothes, and admitted defeat. Just because they’d trapped me in here with all these clothes didn’t mean I was obligated to buy anything. I’d just pick a T-shirt to assuage my guilt that the woman worked so hard and leave. And to appease Luc. After all, how expensive could a T-shirt be?
I picked one up and checked out the tag.
“Yikes!” I adjusted my glasses and looked again. No way—that had to be a typo, didn’t it?
“How’s it going in there?”
I jumped at Luc’s voice. “Um. Okay.”
“I want to see it all.”
Great. I resolutely took off my clothes, grabbed the first pair of pants, and crammed myself into them. Literally. I’d blow out the seat if I tried to sit down in them, they were so tight.
I turned to the mirror and frowned. My underwear poofed out of the low waistband of the pants, like tissue paper out of a gift bag. Was it supposed to do that?
“Probably not,” I muttered. Unfortunately, stuffing them down so they wouldn’t show was almost impossible, and they made the most unsightly bulges.
“Kat?”
I threw on the first shirt that I saw and cracked open the door. “I need a bigger size.”
The woman stepped out from nowhere. “Let’s see.”
Gritting my teeth, I walked out. “It’s tight.”
“It’s supposed to be tight,” Satan’s handmaiden replied.
Luc made a circle with his finger. “Turn around.”
I glared at him but did as he commanded.
“Actually, I think it looks fantastic. What do you think, Leah?”
“It’s perfect, Luc. It gives her shape. And it’s stretchy, so it’ll be comfortable.”
Oh great—he was on first-name basis with the help. They’d cemented their united front. I was doomed.
I pouted. “It’s not comfortable. I feel mummified.”
Leah nodded. “And the shirt looks great on her, don’t you think? The wraparound style is great for augmenting her figure.”
Read: it makes her look like she has boobs.
Luc nodded. “Does it come in colors other than white?”
“We have pink as well.”
“Great. We’ll take them both. And the pants.”
No, we wouldn’t. I opened my mouth to tell them both that under no circumstances was I spending half my down payment on a pair of pants and two shirts, but they pushed me back into the room and told me to change into the next outfit.
In the interest of time, I cooperated. The sooner we finished this, the sooner I could get to the park and scope out the man situation. Enough time after the ordeal was over to tell them there was no way I was going to buy anything.
Unfortunately, as soon as I started to make a dent in the pile of clothing, Leah brought me more. And there was nothing I could do to get out of it.
Luc and Leah had a grand old time while I was locked in the airless changing room. I gritted my teeth against their laughter as I squished myself into the next outfit.
“Glad they’re enjoying themselves so thoroughly,” I murmured. I blew my hair back (it’d come completely undone) and shoved my underwear into submission. Knowing I must look like a madwoman, I swung the door open to find Luc lounging in a chair with a Coke, flirting with Leah.
I just about gagged.
They glanced up simultaneously.
Leah was the first to comment. “Those jeans look fabulous on her.”
Luc nodded but didn’t say anything, his eyes scrutinizing intensely.
“I have just the thing to top off that outfit.” Leah rushed off to a rack across the room, grabbed something off its hanger, and came back with her hands filled with red velvet. “Try this,” she said as she stuffed me into what turned out to be a jacket.
I scowled at it before I scowled at her. But neither Luc nor Leah paid any attention to me.
“Fabulous.” Leah nodded. “I knew it’d look fabulous on her.”
“She looks good in red,” Luc said, never taking his eyes off me, “and she loves velvet.”
I wanted to protest but, in truth,
I
really liked the jacket too. Not that I’d admit it. So I said the only thing that came to mind. “Bees and bulls are attracted to red.”
I
really liked the jacket too. Not that I’d admit it. So I said the only thing that came to mind. “Bees and bulls are attracted to red.”
Luc’s lips quirked. “Then it’s good there aren’t very many bulls in San Francisco.”
It took another forty-five minutes before I got through all the clothes and was back into my own. I squared my shoulders and strode out of the dressing room to set Luc and Leah straight on fact that I was not spending a dime.
“Now—” I stopped abruptly. They weren’t there.
I looked around and found them laughing by the register. There were three enormous bags by Luc’s feet.
No way. I strode over and put my hands on my hips when I got to them. “I’m ready to go.”
“Great.” Luc smiled at Leah. “Thanks for your help. We appreciate it.”
“It was fun.” She smiled at him, that same smile women always gave him. I wanted to check his pockets to make sure she hadn’t slipped him her apartment key.
Luc bent down, picked up the bags, and headed toward the door.
Frowning, I stared after him. To my credit, it only took me a couple of seconds to figure out what was going on.
“Wait!” I rushed after him.
“Just in time.” He grinned. “You can open the door.”
I did automatically. Ever helpful—that’s me. But I rationalized that it’d be better talking out of Leah’s hearing anyway. I hurried to his side and tugged on his sleeve. “Tell me you didn’t buy those clothes for me.”
He glanced down at me. “Well, I didn’t buy them for myself. I’m not into cross-dressing.”
“Ha ha.” I scowled at him. “This is serious. I don’t want those clothes.”
“They looked great on you. You looked normal for a change.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just that you needed new clothes.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I don’t. I can’t afford to spend that much money. Especially since this week—” I shut my mouth before I said anything else.
Unfortunately, Luc caught my gaffe. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and frowned at me. “What do you mean, especially this week?”
“Nothing.”
He stared at me and then let loose a string of swear words that had my ears burning. “Tell me you didn’t give your dad more money.”
I crossed my arms. “Fine.”
“Damn it, Kat, when are you going to stop letting him use you?”
I didn’t reply. I’d heard it all before. In my head, I even agreed with Luc, but in my heart I couldn’t turn him away. I mean, he was my dad.
“Shit.” He strode to the car and popped the trunk. I waited for him to unlock my door, which he yanked open, and then watched him walk around the car and get in.
“Shit,” he said again, resting his hands on the steering wheel and staring out the window.
I decided to venture a question. “Can’t we just return the clothes?”
“The clothes are not the issue, Katherine.”
Uh-oh. I was in trouble. “What is the issue, then?”
He cranked the ignition and pulled out of the parking space with barely a look to see if it was clear. “The issue is you let your dad take advantage of you, which forces you to have to take ridiculous assignments at work to make up for it.”
I couldn’t deny that. “If we can’t return the clothes, I’ll just repay you.” And then maybe I could sell them to a consignment store or something.
“Forget paying for the clothes. I took care of it.”
I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean screw the clothes. This was going to be my treat from the beginning. This is about that asshole you call your father.”
“He is
not
an asshole.” I didn’t yell it, but it was close.
not
an asshole.” I didn’t yell it, but it was close.
“What kind of guy hits his daughter up for money all the time? And not just for twenty bucks.” He glanced at me before darting around a stopped bus. “How much was it this time? A thousand? Two?”
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