Page 12 of Where We Bloom

But I don’t touch her because she wouldn’t welcome that.

“I bought them at the thrift store,” she says. There’s no shame in her tone, no hesitation.

But I’m seeing red.

“Why are you wearing secondhand clothes?”

“Okay, you can press pause on the judging.” She points her finger at me. “I’ll have you know that filthy rich people live in or stay in Big Sky.”

“That’s not news to me.”

“Of course, it isn’t.” She huffs a breath and rolls her pretty eyes, and I feel my lips twitch. I fucking love hersassy side. “They also discard their hardly worn clothes and donate them to that shop, andI love it.Here, look.”

Before I can stop her, she unfastens her seat belt and flips around on the seat, diving backward to the totes behind us. Her arse is in the air, and my heart stumbles as fear spears right through it.

“Get back in that seat belt, Billie.” I wrap my arm around her waist and glare at Miller in the mirror, making it clear that he had better not wreck this car and hurt her.

The fucker grins at me.

“Billie, I’m not kidding. Sit your arse down.”

“I know it’s here somewh—aha! Here it is.” She flips back around with several garments in her hands and refastens her belt. “Look. This is aDiorskirt, in my size, with the tag still on it. It was more than two thousand dollars brand-new. Look at the tag.Look.”

I glance down but don’t reply.Thisis how she affords to look the way she does. Always put together, always classy, like she just stepped off a Paris runway.

She sets the skirt on her lap and reaches for the other piece of clothing.

“This is a Louis Vuitton blouse with the tag still on. Fifteen hundred dollars! It’s insane. This stuff is brand-new or nearly new, all of it is luxury, and I only paid three hundred dollars forall of itbecause Martha, the owner, knows I’ll donate it back when I’m finished with it. It’s an insane deal. I love clothes so much, but there’s no way I could afford to dress like this normally. Oh! Letme show you?—”

She reaches down to unbuckle again, but I cover her hand in mine over the clip and growl.

“You’ll stay where you are, or I’ll spank your arse.”

“You’re a bully.” There’s not much heat in her voice as she narrows her eyes at me. “I wanted to show you the Hermès coat I found. It’s gorgeous and so soft.”

“It’s July,” I remind her.

“It won’t always be July,” she counters and gestures at the clothes still in her hands. “I just need to put these away.”

I take the garments from her and toss them over my shoulder into the back.

“If those get stained, I’ll kick you in the shin.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If they get stained, I’ll buy you new ones.”

I fuckinghatethat she’s wearing someone’s castoffs. I’ll buy her whatever she wants. Hell, I’ll take her to Paris, New York, wherever she wants to go to shop until she has everything she could want.

“I don’t want new ones,” she replies as if she’s talking to a child who doesn’t understand the words coming out of her pretty little mouth. “I wantthose.Besides, there’s so much waste in the fashion industry. Fast fashion drives me bonkers. Sure, you can get a cute top for sixteen dollars off some site, but by the time it’s been washed twice, it’s no longer worth wearing because it’s misshapen and shrunk three sizes. So it gets tossed, and then something else is bought, and all of that goes into the landfill. Yes, luxury costs a lot of money, but the materials are so beautiful and well made. Sure, my dry-cleaning bill is more than some mortgages, but I don’t care. It’s worth it.”

She shrugs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Glad you asked, aren’t you?”

“I know it’s surprising to you, but I’m interested in hearing about these things. I like knowing more about you.”

“Right.” She sighs and looks out the window. She doesn’t believe me.

“I have a question. What happened to that funny, intelligent, kind woman I had dinner with and shared the best night of my life with last year?”

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