Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A lot could happen in two weeks. Brody knew this to be true since he’d traveled the States and had job-hopped for a stint. One month he’d lived in four different places, including spending a weekend at a campground. It had rained nonstop, and he’d had nothing but a pop-up tent and a bag of takeout. He had sworn to never repeat that experience, but right now he’d trade being dragged through the aisles of Target for camping hell.
“It’s not that bad!” Reagan said on a laugh as he grumbled for effect. They had been down every aisle in this damn place. And he did mean every aisle. He hadn’t counted but there seemed to be about 14,000 of them. “And you’re no help, by the way.”
“I have no idea what to buy Zander. He has everything!”
“According to you, everyone in your family has everything.”
“They do. We should ban gifts altogether. Start that tradition now, with this housewarming party.” He clasped Reagan’s hand and dragged her close. She was laughing when she bumped into his chest. He looped his arms around her waist and held her there. Even under godawful fluorescent lights and surrounded by bedding sets in plastic cubes, she was an absolute knockout. He stole a kiss that she returned, which instantly made this excursion better.
“You’re smiling. An improvement.” She patted his cheek.
“We should go home if you really want to see me smile.”
She laughed again.
Like he’d been thinking, a lot could happen in two weeks. He and Reagan had hopped into bed together every night since the morning they’d had sex. They slept separately, in their own rooms, which was fine with him. He was a late-night kind of guy, and she was an early riser. It made sense.
He hadn’t been exaggerating about them not getting much else done, but somehow, she found time to work on the house and visit her customers, and come with him gift shopping, apparently.
“You’ve put this off as long as possible. The party is tonight. We have to buy something.” She held up a pillow with an embroidered Mona Lisa on it. “He likes art, right?”
“Uh, no.” He stuffed the pillow back onto the shelf.
“Oh! What if we buy him a basket filled with home stuff. Like cleaning liquids and air fresheners. A candy dish and M-and-Ms.”
Brody didn’t have the heart to tell her that Zander likely had a cleaning staff that used environmentally friendly products, and that if he owned a candy dish it would be fine crystal and worth thousands, and likely filled to the brim with gourmet, handmade chocolates from Belgium.
“I’m ending this torture. We’re going to go across the street to the liquor store. I’ll pick out a nice bottle of bourbon and be done with it.”
“Fine. But we’re putting it in a basket with some of my favorite things.” She dropped the Mona Lisa pillow into the cart, and they walked to the basket section of the store. She added a sizeable basket and a fleece blanket before wheeling them to the candle display.
“Sage and mint.” She lifted a candle to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled. “I have one in my storage unit. I miss this smell. Kelly is allergic to strong scents, so I couldn’t bring it with me.”
When she turned back to the shelf, he grabbed two more sage and mint candles and put them into the cart. No reason she shouldn’t have what made her happy.
“What are you doing?”
“I figured these are a decent substitute for actual sage in case you utter my two least favorite words again.”
In the kitchenware section, she paused in front of a deluxe blender and stroked the box. “I miss my Vitamix.”
“What’s so special about a Vitamix?”
She placed her hand over her heart and gasped. “Don’t tell me your private chef didn’t outfit your bougie bachelor pad in New York with a Vitamix!”
“Very funny.” But it was. The idea of him rifling through his own cabinets and doing his own dishes when his smoothies were usually premade and stocked in the refrigerator was amusing. “Well, let’s buy one.”
“They’re four hundred dollars.”
“Huh-uh. That one is seven hundred.” He reached for the box labeled The Ascent Series featuring shiny gold accents.
“Don’t you dare! I have one in my storage unit.”
“You have a lot of stuff in your storage unit.”
“I haven’t missed anything in there until now. I’ve been…busy.” She shot him a feisty look.
He abandoned the cart to pull her ass against his hips. He nudged aside her hair and gently bit her earlobe. “You’ve been busy gettin’ busy with me.”
She hummed as she reached up to palm the back of his neck. He moved his hand as high as her ribs, wanting to go higher, but they were in public. A cart with a wobbly wheel went squeaking by and snapped him out of his trance.
Once they were on the move down the aisle again, he continued the discussion. “Why do you still have a storage unit?”
“Because I don’t have a place to live.” Her expression said what she didn’t: Duh.
“You live at 388 Maplebrook Drive last I checked.”
She clucked her tongue. “For now.”
“Yes, but I’m also living there for now , and I’ve furnished the house.”
“I'm not sure I’d call what you did ‘furnished.’ Besides, you own it, so you having furniture there makes sense,” she mumbled as she lifted a trinket off the shelf.
What she didn’t know was that he’d decided to sell her the house when he left. Only, he didn’t want her to stress about the money or the downpayment, so he planned on selling it to her for a dollar for tax purposes. He wasn’t sure she’d go for that, and he might take some heat from Jaylyn for buying yet another house for a woman, but it was the right thing to do. Reagan belonged in that house.
“Shoot!” She put the trinket back on the shelf. “I almost forgot. I have to buy shoes to go with the dress I’m wearing tonight.”
“Here?” he asked as she wheeled their to-be-purchased goods toward the shoe department.
“Don’t be a snob. They’re budget-friendly.”
He made a face. Not because he didn’t appreciate budget-friendly options—when he’d lived off tips or a cook’s wage, he’d celebrated budget-friendly. It was the idea of her having to settle that chafed him.
“I bought my dress here,” she argued as she peeked into a shoebox on the shelf. “Maybe they have the same brand.”
“I can’t let you do this.” He pushed the box back onto the shelf. He’d been immersed in Reagan’s world, hell, he lived in her former house. It was high time she had a taste of his world. Something told him she’d never been spoiled. He was up for that task. “I have a better idea. And you owe me for this endless exercise of my shopping patience, so we’re doing it.”
“Doing what?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“C’mon. I’ll show you.”
Two hours later, after the dinner Brody had promised her, and about an hour and a half from the housewarming party start time, he gestured to the doors of a towering brick building. They were downtown, and swanky didn’t begin to describe the luxurious shop.
They had made a pitstop at the liquor store for a bottle of bourbon before going to dinner. She’d organized the gift basket and had signed the card too, after Brody insisted. She was proud of her finds, though mildly concerned that she didn’t have shoes to wear with her dress. Brody assured her they’d find a pair tonight, but if this was where they were starting, she couldn’t imagine being able to afford them. She doubted this store carried shoes costing less than five hundred dollars a pair.
So, here she was, Brody’s hand on her back as he guided her to an elevator. She’d worn her best pair of flats, black jeans, and a sparkly rhinestone top. A worst-case scenario outfit in case she didn’t find anything within her budget at this store. Likely.
On the fifth floor, they were greeted by a receptionist at a desk. “May I help you?” the young woman asked with a flip of her silky black hair.
“I reserved a suite with Dana,” Brody answered.
A…what, now?
“Of course, right this way.” The receptionist led them over shining marble flooring to a pair of double doors. The suite appeared to be the largest of the surrounding rooms. Reagan immediately began sweating. “Enjoy your experience.”
“What is this?” she whispered to Brody.
“You’ll see.” But his smile revealed nothing.
Dana, an older woman with flame-red hair dressed in a smart Kelly-green pantsuit greeted them. After brief introductions and a warm welcome, she whisked them into a room packed with clothing racks. A posh gentleman handed Reagan a flute of champagne and then vanished.
“As requested, Mr. Crane, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing several options for Reagan from Oscar de la Renta, Versace, and I added a few Giambattista Valli to keep things lively.” She winked at Reagan.
Reagan had heard of two of those designers but had never so much as touched a garment made by them. Grateful for the champagne flute, she drank down a greedy sip.
“Whatever she’d like,” Brody said. “We’ll need a cocktail dress and shoes for this evening, but I’d also like a formal option for an event coming up in two weeks.”
“Lovely!” Dana exclaimed.
Reagan snapped her head around, but Brody still wore a secret smile. “If she decides to join me for a weekend in New York. I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Wonderful. She’s in the best hands,” Dana promised.
“I’ll be here if you need me, but don’t feel as if you have to parade around like a shopping montage in a movie.”
“What is this?” she reiterated, her voice quiet.
“This”—he kissed her temple—“is how it’s done in my world. Knock yourself out.”
With that, he left her with several clothing racks and a very enthusiastic Dana. When Reagan inspected one of the tags, she saw why. “This dress costs forty-five hundred dollars?”
Dana frowned. “It is one of our lower-cost offerings, but I was so sure the style would be perfect for tonight, I wanted to include it. I can vouch for the quality, but if it’s too pedestrian?—”
When the other woman reached for the hanger, Reagan clasped her wrist. “It’s a bit high,” she whispered. “I was aiming for closer to hundreds of dollars.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Dana laughed. “Mr. Crane was very clear. You’re to choose whichever dress you like. I’m not sure we’ll have time to tailor it given the start time of your event this evening, but never underestimate the power of precisely placed safety pins.”
Head spinning, Reagan stood statue still while Dana presented dress after dress. There was a basic black with short sleeves and a belt, as well as a showstopper of a sleeveless shift dress decorated with mirrored squares. “Real glass!” Dana said. Then there was the stunning white crochet strapless maxi, to which Dana decided, “A touch casual for a cocktail party, but I’d like to see you in it anyway.” There was also a masterpiece in vibrant red with an ornate skirt.
“Try these three first.” Dana showed Reagan to the dressing room, which was larger than her current bedroom, now stocked with the red, black, and white dresses.
Reagan staunchly ignored the price tag as she carefully tried on the first one. She scrunched her nose up at the white. It was beautiful, with big cutouts in the long skirt, but it was too easy to imagine spilling cocktail sauce down the front. No, thanks.
The black mirrored Versace was fit for a celebrity walking a red carpet. It instantly made her feel like a movie star. Pretty as it was, she found the modern frock rigid. She’d prefer to feel more like herself.
She nearly asked Dana to swap out the red for a muted color, but the more she admired the dress, the more she wanted to try it on.
Like the white dress, it was strapless. The bodice was fitted, leading to a skirt with large abstract flower cutouts in varying shapes and sizes. The fit-and-flare silhouette accentuated her shape, and the short skirt made her legs look a mile long.
No price tag on this one. She was afraid to ask.
She stepped out of the dressing room where Dana and Brody were chatting.
“This one is too much for tonight, right?” she asked whoever was listening.
Both of them stared slack-jawed for the count of three. Reagan checked to make sure that she hadn’t tucked the skirt into her underwear, but no, everything was in place.
“Stunning,” Dana praised.
“That’s it. This one.” Brody stalked over in a way that reminded her of him in the bedroom. Confident. Decisive. “Goddamn, I knew you would look amazing, but I had no idea you were going to be this fucking perfect.”
Humbled by the compliment, she bit her bottom lip.
Dana chirped about Brody’s “excellent choice” before dashing off to select shoes. When they were finally alone, Reagan broke the bad news to him. “I really, really appreciate the personal shopper and the white-glove treatment, but I can’t let you spend five grand on a dress I’m going to wear one time.”
“I’m not. This probably costs ten.” He closed her mouth by lifting her chin with his curled knuckle. “I’m going to buy you a formal dress for the party in two weeks too. That is, if you agree to come with me. I think you should. I’ll show you my penthouse.”
She was still wrapping her mind around the fact that she was standing in front of him in a dress that cost ten grand. “Brody?—”
“I know I’m the one trying on a new life, but I can’t help wanting to treat you the way you deserve.” He fiddled with one of the large red floral cutouts on the skirt. “Let me spoil you. I’m taking you to my brother’s event where you know no one. The least you can do is let me buy you a dress.”
“Or two?” she asked with a weak laugh.
“Yeah. Two.”
“Oh, Brody.” How had he made that sound so reasonable?
“I love when you say that,” he murmured against the soft flesh of her ear. His hands gripped her waist and gently squeezed. “But I prefer when you say it in a high, tight, moany way.”
As she was melting into him, Dana bustled into the room with a stack of boxed shoes. “I have choices for you!”
“Being a good gift receiver is an art, Reagan,” Brody reminded her as he backed away. “You’re doing great so far.”
And like that, he’d officially convinced her to step into his world, let him buy her dresses and shoes, and practice receiving for a change. She was out of excuses, not that he was hearing them anyway. So she gingerly sat down on a large round cushion as Dana unveiled the first pair of shoes.