Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [49]
But you know what they say about pride.
After being at the mall for an hour already Amy hadn’t bought a thing, which was unusual for her. We browsed through a store that specialized in lingerie. It was a virtual sea of silk and lace.
“What do you think of this?” Amy held a bright pink merry widow with dangling garter straps up in front of her. The color matched her current hair color perfectly.
I scrunched my nose. “A little too trampy for my tastes.”
She smiled. “Just what I was looking for! Thanks!”
I glanced over at Butch, who stared at the store mannequin dressed in a lavender corset, crotchless panties, and a black feather boa draped over one shoulder. He seemed mesmerized.
I left Amy to continue her trampy shopping spree and wandered the store. It smelled nice in there—a jasmine fragrance filled the air that emanated from a bath and beauty section. A “mood-enhancing” candle flickered on display.
Over in the bathrobe section I stopped in front of a gorgeous dark blue chenille one. I checked the tag. Over two hundred dollars. Ouch. I sighed and ran my hands over the super-soft material.
A salesgirl approached. “Can I help you with anything?”
I stopped molesting the bathrobe of my dreams and shook my head. “Just browsing.”
She nodded at the robe. “That’s on sale. No tax this week.”
“Maybe let me know when you have a 90 percent off sale.”
She grinned. “I know. It is expensive, but quality costs money.”
I considered my Visa card. Not a chance. I could already hear it practically screaming from inside my purse. It didn’t want to come out any time soon or it might charge me with abuse.
“Try it on,” the salesgirl prompted, taking it off the hanger and holding it up.
“Oh, you’re good.” I slipped it on and pulled it around me in a big chenille hug. I felt automatically relaxed. Two hundred bucks for stress relief. No tax.
“Looks great on you!” She must have been on commission.
“I really want it,” I said.
She blinked. “Then it’s yours.”
I frowned at her. “What?”
She blinked again. “If you want it, then it’s yours. I will wrap it up for you.”
“Hold on. I really can’t afford it.”
She shook her head. “It’s yours. For free.”
“Uh…”
But before I could say anything else, she pulled the robe off me and took it up to the cash register, wrapped it in tissue paper, and put it in a large bag with some bath beads thrown in to give it a nice scent. She pushed it across the counter to me.
I studied her. What was the catch? “Are you sure this is free?”
The smile seemed frozen on her face and her eyes were a bit glazed over. “Yes. Free. Enjoy your new bathrobe. Good-bye.”
She turned and walked away.
Amy joined me at the cash register. “I didn’t see anything I liked. Ready to go?”
I nodded.
Maybe it was a promotion. Maybe I was the thousandth customer in the store that day. Weird.
With a last glance at the salesgirl, now helping another customer, I accompanied Amy out of the store. I expected the girl to snatch the bag away from me, but she didn’t. Butch finally tore his eyes off the scantily clad mannequin and joined us.
“That was so strange.” I took a last look back at the store. “I just got this for free.”
Amy peeked into my bag. “Wow, really?”
“Yeah.”
“That is so cool. Who says you’re not having a lucky day?”
Actually, I did. Major. And a free bathrobe didn’t exactly balance the scales.
I shrugged inwardly. But it was a nice start.
“Hey, look, George is here, too.” Amy pointed over at the food court as we passed it.
And yes, there was George, drinking a milk shake and reading a magazine. He had a Band-Aid on his neck. Actually, two Band-Aids. One to cover each fang mark I’d made last night. I guess he hadn’t healed yet.
I cringed at the memory.
He lowered his copy of Vanity Fair as we approached. “Oh, look who it is. Bitey McBitealot.”
I sat down across from him. “How’s the neck?”
“Tender.” He eyed me. “How’s your stake wound?”
I automatically brought a hand up to my chest. I’d actually forgotten about it for a few minutes, but just the mention brought back the memory in Technicolor. “Almost healed.