“No, Kitty Kat, I’m sure there are only two or three years in age separating us, dear.” Olivia tries to keep the calm in her voice, but she’s clearly upset by age remark. Her teeth clamp down, and the last little bit comes out through her teeth. Yeah. Uh-huh. Sure. You keep telling yourself that.
If Luke feels trapped by our verbal cat fight, he doesn’t show it, but I guess that is a must for his line of work.
He pries Olivia’s hand off him. “It’s a matter of security. Shall we, ladies?” He motions towards the door.
“The thing is, Luke, I’m driving my Porsche, and it only has two seats.”
“Not a problem, Mrs. Holt. Morgan brought the Escalade around for us.” He points to the black SUV idling in front of the doors.
“Fine, you may follow us, but Kate and I are taking the Roadster.” Olivia doesn’t wait for Luke to agree. She turns on her heels and click-clacks away with a huff.
“Uh—all right,” I shrug, looking at Luke for the okay. He holds out his arm for me and I take it. As we walk, he puts his hand behind me, slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans. “Um—Luke.”
His hand is back in front. “Just a little tracking device so we don’t lose you.” He glances down at me, a tight smile on my face.
“Are you going to tell Cole what I’m doing?”
“Coulter has enough on his plate right now. We’ll let this one slide.”
I exhale a breath of relief. “Thanks.”
He walks me to the passenger side of Olivia’s car, opening it for me, then shuts it when I’m seated. I grab my seatbelt, but Olivia puts the car in drive before peeling out of the driveway. I brace myself against the dash so I don’t bang my head against the window.
“Holy crap, Olivia,” I yell as she pulls out of the hotel.
“I don’t know what the big idea is with Coulter and his security? We don’t need them. They will only cramp our style.”
Really lady? The fact that you just said that scares me. They may cramp your style, but I’m pretty sure they would stop you from strangling me or vice versa.
We don’t travel far. Olivia pulls through to valet parking and is out of the car and handing the guy her keys before I even have my seatbelt off. She can really move even in those heels.
“Come along Kate.” She waves me over as she walks toward the main doors. Oh man, I’m the biggest idiot. I repeat the words in my head. Keep your enemies closer: get to know her. Maybe she’ll like me, maybe I’ll like her and we can all be one big happy family. I laugh out loud at this thought. Olivia turns and eyes me. I just smile and wave. As we reach the doors, the Escalade pulls up and Luke jumps out. I wave at him, then follow Olivia, feeling a bit like a dog on a leash. But if I am, I’m a pit pull.
As we walk into one of the shops, I watch as Olivia demands the attention of the salesclerks. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she walks around telling them what to do.
“Don’t just stand there, Kate, find something to buy. You there,” she says looking at a poor shopgirl, “help my…friend.” She almost, but not quite, chokes on the last word.
The saleswoman comes over. She looks timid and fearful at me, like my pit bull may pounce on her at any moment. “Um, why don’t you give me some suggestions,” I say, giving her my friendliest smile. After about thirty minutes, Olivia has a handful of dresses that cost a small fortune. I have a black pleated skirt with white edging, and I’m cringing at the cost, debating with myself on whether the purchase is worth it.
“Kitty Kat.” Olivia comes up, examining my skirt. “That cannot be the only thing you are going to purchase.”
“It’s the only thing I liked.” That and the only item with a price that didn’t evoke my gag reflex—and even this one is debatable.
“Oh, that cannot be the case. Here, let me help you.”
I want to cry, I hate this store and these clothes. All I see are all the bills that I can pay off. All the things I can do with five hundred dollars—and that’s being cheap. I glance over at Luke, who’s standing just outside the shop, silently pleading for him to come help me. He just smiles and shakes his head. The traitor! I stomp my foot with a huff.
“Here, this is perfect for you.” She turns, holding a small white shirt.
“I have plenty of white t-shirts,” I say, brushing her off.
Olivia gasps, putting a hand on her hip. “This is not a shirt, it’s a Michael Kors dress. Come, you’re trying it on.”
It takes me a good five minutes with the help of the shop assistant to get the dress on. By the time I do, I’m so out of breath, I feel like I have been playing tug-of-war. The dress is made of a stretchy material and clings to my body. I turn around and look in the mirror. “Oh my holy hell, this thing doesn’t even cover my ass.” I try pulling it down, but it just rides right back up.
The quiet shop assistant that has been helping me grins sheepishly. “Maybe a bigger size?”
“What size is this one?”