Page 93 of Story of My Life
I could hear the smile in her voice and dropped my hands. “You’re not going to tell him?”
“Oh, I’m definitely going to tell him at some point. I’m his little sister. It’s my job to emotionally destroy him as often as possible. But I can wait.”
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you. I really need this fake date.”
“From where I sit, it looks like you could also use some fake sex.”
I shook my head. “This is purely platonic. All I want to do is write a book, hide in my house, and get a cat. I’m over the whole relationship thing.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure. So what are you going to wear?” Laura asked. “Because I know a place.”
Laura rippeddown the tworump for chiefflyers on our way into Daisy Angel, Story Lake’s own hip clothing boutique two storefronts down from the bookstore.
It smelled like an expensive combination of eucalyptus and cedar inside. The store had peacock-blue walls—the color I was absolutely going to steal for my sitting room—and eye-catching displays of cute everything. I was two feet inside the store, and I’d already noted a sweater, a throw pillow, and a pair of high-waisted trousers that I coveted.
Zoey was going to love this place.
A woman with smooth brown skin, a lot of sleek black hair piled on top of her head, and a sleeveless sweater the color of poppies appeared from the back. She had half a dozen bracelets climbing her arm and a tablet in her hand.
“Hey, Laur! How’d you like those leggings?” she asked in a deliciously crisp British accent.
“Loved. You were right about the stretchiness. I shimmied into them in less time than it takes me to get into my skinny jeans,” Laura said, snatching an artfully distressed Blondie band T-shirt off the nearest display. “Okay, we’re not officially shopping for me, but this is mine now.”
“I’ll take it up to the new and improved register area,” the fashionable stranger offered.
Laura scoped out the long low ivory table that held a sleek point-of-sale system. “Accessible and sexy. Nicely done.”
“Well, I was sick of talking to the top of your head when you came in. So you’re welcome.”
“Hazel, meet Sunita. Sunita, this is Hazel,” Laura said, making the introductions.
Sunita grinned. “Ah, the vindicated bird killer.”
“I prefer romance novelist, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s nice to meet you. I love your store, Sunita.”
“Call me Sunny. And I’d love it more if we got some more foot traffic…or wheel traffic,” she teased, eyeing Laura’s chair.
Laura rolled her eyes. “Sunny and I go way back.”
“High school way back,” Sunny filled in.
“She’s one of the few people who remained completely unfiltered after my accident. I had to talk my poor mother-in-law out of throwing herself off a metaphorical bridge when I came home from the hospital and she suggested we go for a walk,” Laura explained.
I winced in secondhand embarrassment. That sounded exactly like something I would have said and then freaked out over.
“What are we shopping for?” Sunny asked.
Laura thrust a sleeveless knit romper in black at me. “Something summery like this. Go try it on.”
“Apparently, I’m going to try this on,” I announced.
Sunny pointed me to the fitting rooms along the back wall.
The romper showed off a lot more leg and boob than I was used to. But Laura assured me it was perfect for research purposes and who was I to doubt her? I also bought a pair of tuxedo pants that I had no place to wear, a cropped white sweater that looked like it was made from the innards of ateddy bear, two pairs of jeans that magically made my butt look amazing, and a suede motorcycle jacket in green.
Laura ended up with three tees and a pair of stonewashed jeans that I wished I’d seen first.
As Sunny rang our treasures up, the diabolical Laura turned to me with a wicked grin. “You know, there’s a really cool furniture store near here. I bet we could find some treasures for your house.”
