Page 25 of Dark Endures

“Are you stupid?” That was rude.

Her laughter rings out, turning Maverick’s frown into a small smile. “Yes. But I think I was already falling for him, and all I could think about was seeing him.”

There are too many women who do foolish things for a man in the name of love and pay the price for it.

Mother was always crashing hard, needing me to pick her up even when I was a child.

“Nothing happened because Maverick saved me. But it could have ended up very differently.”

Like duh. Every woman dreads just what could happen. “We need to teach you how to stay safe around here.”

She looks over at the man who’s back to glaring at everyone around us. “Um, I’m not sure that’s necessary anymore.”

An awkward giggle sneaks out of me. “Probably not.”

“Though I don’t want to be afraid of the club. We absolutely need to go this Friday. Only, I want to be dressed better than I was the last time.”

Huh? “You always look amazing.” She’s literally a walking magazine ad from about fifty years ago with her pencil skirts, kitten heels, and cardigans. Timeless elegance describes her style perfectly.

“Boring. My clothes are boring. I want to feel free and fun like you.”

Me? She wants to look like me. My clothes are eclectic at best. The mishmash of styles I find at thrift stores rarely go together, and they never even approach timeless elegance. It’s all about not caring what people think of you. Or at least pretending to.

If they’re looking at the brave combinations, they aren’t thinking about the fact that you don’t have designer labels. “How fun do you want to go?”

“Moderately fun.” She grins.

“We can do that.” If I have any talents, shopping is one of them.

With her figure, Dahlia needs separates or something with a lot of stretch to it. We flip through the racks looking for the rare gems.

A burnt orange mini-skirt grabs my attention. It’s a little more orange than burnt. Just enough color to stand out. “What about this?”

Dahlia looks up. “Is that a belt?”

“Probably. But we can pretend it’s a skirt.” But I will probably need to teach her how to sit and bend down in it without showing the goods.

“Love it.”

“Dahl.” Maverick growls.

Wow. I can feel that word down to my soul. Women would sell their right arm to hear a man say their name like that. They’d probably kill for it. If I was the violent type, I know I would.

Dahlia glares at him. “I’ll wear it if I want.”

“You can try.”

La La La, I’m totally pretending I did not see that sparkle in his eye. Do married people who are in love always act like this?

She snatches the hanger with the orange skirt on it and folds it over her arm to buy it with a defiant yet flirty smile.

Maverick turns his death glare back to me.

Ruh Roh. Change the topic now before he kills you. “How is the wedding planning going?”

“Ask Maverick. He just ordered enough flowers to cover an entire parade’s worth of floats.”

“That’s what your mother and the florist said we’d need.”

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