Page 171 of Lost Then Found
I snort. “Sounds like a hell of a time.”
She shrugs. “It was. Not all of it was smart, but it was mine. That’s the point, Blue. Having a night that’s just yours.”
I exhale, nodding. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of those. Feels weird, like I’m forgetting something.”
She gives me a look, one eyebrow lifting. “Youareforgetting something. That you’re still allowed to have fun.”
Before I can say anything, she squeezes my shoulder, then pulls back. “Do me a favor—have a good night for me. Arealgood night.”
I smirk. “Oh yeah?”
She grins. “Hell, if I was thirty years younger, I’d be climbing Boone Wilding like a damn tree.”
Laughter bursts out of me, loud and unfiltered. “Jesus, Dawn.”
She just winks, grabbing her purse. “Go have fun, sweetheart. Don’t overthink it.”
I walk Dawn to the door, my arms crossed as I glance at her. “Try not to get into too much trouble now.”
She grins, slipping her sunglasses over her hair. “Diner’s closed, babe. I’ve got all the time in the world to cause trouble.”
Before I can respond, the door swings open so hard it nearly smacks Dawn in the face. She sidesteps just in time as Miller strides in, her arms overloaded with clothing—dresses, tops, skirts, even a pair of heels hooked onto her fingers. A purse dangles from her wrist, like she’s just ransacked an entire department store.
Dawn blinks at her. “Well, hell. You moving in?”
Miller barely acknowledges her, setting everything down in a dramatic flourish on the couch. “Nope. Just saving this one from embarrassing herself with her questionable fashion choices.”
I stare at her. “Miller, what thehell—” I gesture at the mountain of clothes. “When I said I needed help picking something to wear tonight, I meantfrom my own closet.”
Miller waves a dismissive hand. “Well, that’s on you for not being specific.” She lifts a sleek black top, inspecting it with a critical eye. “Besides, I figured you could use an upgrade. No offense.”
Dawn cackles. “You’re trouble, girl.”
I rub my temples. “Whatisall of this?”
Miller holds up a sheer blouse, then a leather miniskirt like she’s unveiling a Picasso. “This is vintage Mugler. Fall ‘99. And these—” she plucks a pair of pants from the pile, holding them up like a prized jewel—“Saint Laurent, 2002.”
I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. “Miller, have you ever been to The Lucky Devil?”
She scoffs, partially offended. “Duh. It’s the only halfwaydecent dive bar in a hundred-mile radius.”
“Right.” I gesture to the clothing. “So why the hell would I wear designer to adive bar?”
She shrugs, completely unfazed. “Because you’re drop-dead gorgeous, you’re going out with a man who looks like he was handcrafted by the gods of good genetics, and quite frankly, I refuse to let you dress like someone who just crawled out of a PTA meeting.”
Dawn barks out a laugh, slapping a hand against my back. “I like her.”
Miller smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Who doesn’t?”
The door swings shut behind Dawn as she calls out, “Have fun, ladies!” her voice lilting with amusement.
I let out a breath, turning back to the mess Miller has created in my living room—dresses draped over the couch, silk tops spilling onto the floor, a pair of strappy heels I can already feel giving me blisters. I run my fingers over a slinky black dress that looks like it might disintegrate if I breathe on it too hard.
“What happens,” I say slowly, picking at the delicate fabric between my fingers, “if someone accidentally spills a beer all over one of these designers?”
Miller looks at me, deadpan. “Then I’d have no choice but to destroy their entire bloodline.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “I can’t wear any of this.”
