Chapter One
Every Night is Another Story
“You have to try the blue one,” Cheryl said, holding up the dress toward me. It was a skinny strapless number that would probably hit me mid-thigh.
“Not really my style,” I said.
“No, it’s perfect. You have a great body and the ruching hides anything you might think you need to hide.” A half-snort and laugh later, she added, “Not that you need to hide anything. Does she, Coop?”
Going through a different rack of dresses behind us, Coop glanced over and grinned. “Nope. She’s perfect.”
Exasperated, I took the dress from Cheryl and held it up to me as I faced Coop. “Really?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do they have it in green? It would match your eyes better.”
I did not roll my eyes.
“But this matches Bubba’s eyes, and he may not notice,” Cheryl argued, catching my arm to pull my gaze back to her. “Trust me, guys don’t notice it consciously when you do it, but their subconscious? It’s the perfect prey, it recognizes the colors, and then they’re drawn in by the symmetry.”
What the hell did that mean? It wasn’t in any psychology book I’d ever read. However… “Right color or not, I don’t wear skimpy dresses.”
“It’s not skimpy,” Cheryl said, her exasperation punching up each syllable. “Just add it to our rack there.”
Our rack.
Turning, I stared at the single rack the lady had brought out for us to hang our “selections” on, and when we were ready, she would wheel it to the changing room.
Over a dozen dresses already hung on it—for Cheryl. I’d hung precisely one before this one. A simple, straightforward, black cocktail dress Cheryl had given me a singular look of disgust followed by one of sympathy before she’d waved me on to hang it up.
Leaving her flicking through the racks, I carried the strapless dress over to hang it up.
“What do you think of this one?” Coop asked, holding up some tulle-infested nightmare of lace and satin. Despite his vain attempts to contain a smirk, his eyes practically danced with laughter.
“I think you’d look great in that,” I deadpanned.
He snorted, and Cheryl let out a giggle. “Oh, do we get to dress Coop up, too? Why didn’t you say so!”
“I’m good,” Coop said. “Let’s focus on Frankie.” Thankfully, he put the monstrosity away, and when Cheryl held her hand up for a high five, I gave it to her gratefully. “But seriously, what about this one?”
Ready to lampoon him for that dress again, I shut up as I turned to see him holding what looked like a two-piece outfit—a lacy high neck crop top and satin miniskirt. It was also in the deepest green. Although really pretty, that was a short skirt and the lacy top was kind of provocative.
He eyed the dress and then me.
“Oh, I like that,” Cheryl said. “Find it in blue, too.” She immediately dove into the racks with him. “We may have found your calling, Coop.” Biting my tongue, I drifted to another rack, even as Cheryl let out a whoop. “Royal blue. This will match Bubba’s eyes, right?”
“How the hell would I know?” Coop scoffed.
“Hang on, I have a picture, let me check…” Cheryl had a picture?
I stole a glance over as she whipped out her phone. Coop made a face, and I gave him a little smile. Dress shopping hadn’t been high on my list, especially after Ian disappeared that morning. Jake had gone after him, but I hadn’t heard from or seen either of them—until just after work when Jake sent me a text that everything was gonna be okay and happy hunting for a dress tonight.
Right up until then, I’d almost managed to make the mental block about the dress shopping. Coop waited for me by my apartment door when I got home, and he’d followed me inside. Thankfully, Mom wasn’t home and Coop kept it upbeat. He even fed the cats while I grabbed a shower. But even a half-hour of extremely invested making out couldn’t quite chase away the half-sick sensation left in the wake of Ian’s absence.
I’d texted him before I went to work. Then at lunch. I debated sending him one before we went out to get the dress and then decided against it. If he wanted to answer me, he would.
For the last forty-five minutes, it had been look at dresses and find some to try on. The price tags on them were not cheap. I found a rack with dresses that had longer skirts. The gold one was kind of pretty.
“No, Frankie. You need to work on your tan if you want to go for that. Too cold and pale. It will wash you out.”