“So, you’re essentially buying clothing already purchased and worn by another?”
“Exactly.” I smiled at him as I sifted through a rack of pants. They were somewhat sorted, casual separated from the dress pants, and I was excited to try them on. I’d begged my mom for years to let me wear pants, but she insisted they weren’t feminine and didn’t believe a woman should wear men’s clothing. A smile played on my lips as I imagined what she’d think of me now, my outfit borrowed entirely from a man’s closet. There was nothing shameful about it, indeed it was nothing but kindness on Ian’s part, but convenience nor necessity were good enough excuses for my mom. “What size did you decide I was?” I asked him as I noticed how the pants were grouped.
“Around a six or an eight. Depends on brand. Women’s clothing sizes are ridiculous.” He lifted a pair of jeans from the rack and eyed them. “These will probably work.” He scanned the store curiously. “Are you positive you wish to shop here?” He seemed to find the idea more puzzling than distasteful which kept me from being automatically offended. Ian might be wealthy and a snob, but I hadn’t gotten the impression of a jerk from him.
“Yes,” I told him, waiting to see if he demanded we go elsewhere. I would be spending the summer with him in his home, and he may not feel clothing from a thrift store was up to those standards. I held my breath, not sure how to react if he did request we go somewhere else.
“Okay,” he answered as he took another pair of jeans and then slacks off the rack. He handed them to me and said, “I’m going to find you a dress for dinner tonight. You’ll need tops and let me be clear….” I waited to see what demand he made and laughed as he said, “You will not be purchasing undergarments from this store. Those will be new.”
“Agreed.” I tried to contain my smile as I moved to the tops, but as I peeked over the rack to watch him I found it impossible. He continually surprised me with the ease at which he went along with my ideas. I already knew Michael would have never agreed with the thrift store, but Ian considered it an adventure.
We met at the dressing room, our arms full of clothing. I pushed the curtain back and hung the clothing on the hook. Ian fingered the material of the curtain.
“You change behind a curtain? There’s not even a door.” His accent became more apparent with his outrage. “Anyone could walk by and take a peek.” He shook his head. “I will be standing right here.”
“My own personal guard. How sweet.” I shot him a smile and jerked the curtain closed.
“Let me know if you need any assistance. Buttons, zippers, anything of the sort.” My laughter was his response and I heard him give a gusty sigh. “I try to be nothing if not helpful and this is the answer I get. Woe is me.”
My laugher at his dramatics was cut off as I attempted to wiggle into the jeans he’d given me to try. “Ian, do you really think this is my size? They feel a bit snug.” More like tight enough to cause strangulation, but I didn’t mention that.
“I believe they call them skinny jeans. They’re supposed to be snug.”
“These maybe too skinny for me.” I collapsed on the little stool they provided and proceeded to peel them off. I checked the tag and looked for a bigger size in the pile we’d accumulated as we’d gone around the store. Three pairs later I found one that didn’t require the Jaws of Life to get into. I slipped on one of the tops Ian had selected to go with it and pushed open the curtain.
“Finally! With all the grunting going on in there I thought you were doing calisthenics instead of trying on clothing.” I glared at him as he spun his finger in a circle, but proceeded to turn around so he’d get the full view. “What a fine as…” he choked off the word before completing it as I held up a finger indicating my number one rule of no swearing.
“Arse?” An unimpressed shake of my head had him changing his choice.
“Bum?”
“Buttocks?”
“Rear?”
“Rump?”
“Tush!” He ended with a victorious smile. His list managed to make me smile even as I shook my head in exasperation.
“You don’t need to comment on how my butt looks!” I tempered my words with a sideways glance as I said, “Thank you though.”
“Well, it is, love.” He said with an unrepentant wink. I gazed at myself in the mirror, frowning unhappily. “What’s wrong, love? You fill those jeans out nicely, if I say so myself.”
His compliment eased my frown but didn’t erase it completely. I didn’t want to admit the true issue as I studied myself wearing jeans for the first time. The freedom of movement was intoxicating, and I could admit I liked the way they looked as well, but it didn’t change one fact.
“Tell me. You have this little furrow between your brows which tells me you’re thinking awfully hard about something. If you tell me what it is, then I can fix it.” Ian’s certainty at his ability to fix my problem had a genuine smile forming. I leaned back against the wall opposite to him as I admitted the problem.
“They’re uncomfortable.”
He gave me a blank stare, and I waved my hands becoming more animated as I explained.
“They’re tight, and they squeeze. The button digs into my stomach, and it feels like they’re crawling up my butt.” I told him in a rush, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at mentioning my butt. They were not at all what I imagined, and the disappointment made me want to cry.
His lips twitched before turning into a full blown grin.
“It’s not funny,” I wailed, sliding down the wall.
“Actually, it is, Jane love, but never fear. I will sort it out. Now, try on those slacks. You’ll find them more comfortable I’m certain, since they won’t hug those luscious curves of yours.” My mouth dropped open, but he just tugged the curtain closed on me. I did as he asked and he was right, they were more comfortable, and flattering even though they didn’t ‘hug my curves’ as he put it.
His distinctive voice filtered through the curtain a moment later. “Are you decent in there?” My affirmative answer was drowned out by the clack of the hooks as he pushed the curtain open.
“Glad to see you waited for my response.” I told him tartly to which he only winked.
“Now, try these. I think you’ll like both.” He shoved some black pants at me along with another pair of jeans. I took them cautiously, but he did have a tendency to be right. I pulled the curtain closed on him and started with the black pants first. A minute later I ducked around the curtain, too impatient to open it, and threw my arms around him.
“They’re wonderful!”
He caught me with a startled laugh, keeping us both upright as my sudden action put us off balance. He held me back from him to check out what I was wearing and grinned.
“Yes, I thought those would be your favorite.” I twisted my hips, the pants so comfortable it was like wearing nothing at all.
“What are they? I love them. Can I wear them all the time? Do they have more?”
He chuckled and told me to slow down.
“They’re yoga pants and extremely popular. You can wear them anytime you like around me, but I assure you Michael will frown upon them as proper dinner attire.”
I gave him an ‘are you kidding me’ look as I said, “I wore your pajama pants to dinner last night.”
“Extraordinary circumstances. And yes, they have more.” I bounced in excitement at the thought, disregarding Michael’s archaic dress code for the moment. “Now, try on the jeans.”
I groaned at the thought of removing the stretchy pants I had on for another pair of tight pants, but he lifted his eyebrow as he made a shooing motion. I slipped back around the curtain to try them and found them surprisingly comfy. They weren’t the yoga pants, but still better than the previous rejects. These were looser and as I bent over I could feel them stretch slightly. I pulled the curtain back to show him and he nodded in approval.
“Better?”
“Much.”
“Very good. One pair of jeans sho
uld be enough. New Orleans in summer is as hot as Hades.” A quick grin as he swapped hell for Hades had me rolling my eyes at his constant need to push the boundary. “We can get more yoga pants and a few sundresses. I think you’re find them much more to your liking.” He pointed to a navy sheath dress hanging on the wall. “Try that on while I see if I can find any more like it. You’ll need them for our nightly dinners.”
The dress was modest with a high neckline and the hem came below the knee, while the sleeves had a flirty cutout by the shoulder that I liked. I changed into a bold print skirt I’d been drawn too, but when I pulled it on I noticed the hem was a little short. Ian cleared his throat on the other side of the curtain then so I opened it to get his opinion.
“What do you think? It’s a little short, isn’t it?” I tugged on it to see if it would go down any, but the skirt was a flowy, fluffy thing and my action did nothing.
“Scandalous.” He replied with a completely deadpan expression, crushing my hope. His lips puckered as he ran his eye down the length, and he shook his head. “What would your mother say if she saw you flouncing around in that?”
I moaned at his question and said, “I knew it. It’s too short. But it’s so pretty!” I peeked down at the bright pink flowers splashed on the material giving it a summer vibe that I loved. He chuckled at my tortured expression.
“It’s fine. It’s barely an inch above your knee.” He placated, leaning against the side of the dressing room, his arms full of more dresses.
“Two inches, let’s be honest here.” I admitted, eyeing the length in the mirror.
“Ah, two inches, we are indecent now.” He drawled before saying, “It still falls into the perfectly respectable range, love. However, I should really refuse to let you wear it.”
“You…refuse to let me? And why?” I’d caught the teasing note in his voice when he’d said refuse so I wasn’t upset, but I did want to know why.
“Walking around in that skirt, all the other gentleman will be able to see what amazing legs you have. I’d be fighting them off constantly as they vied for your attention.” His lips curved upwards, deepening the dimple in his cheek, as I fought off my curiosity at what his full lips would feel like pressed against mine. I shook my head to clear the sudden desire away, already feeling a flush work its way up my cheeks at his compliment.
“Get the skirt. How did the dress fit? I found a couple more that will work for dinner. And how do you feel about shorts?”
“Now, who’s scandalous?” I teased, picking though the options he’d brought. One was a horrible chartreuse and I shook my head, tossing it onto the rejects without even trying it.
“It wasn’t that bad.” Ian said with a disgruntled sigh. I eyed him to see if he was serious, but the hint of a smile gave him away. I hung the rest of the dresses he brought with disbelief.
“Will I really need this many?” I asked, gesturing to the other skirts and casual tops I had collected. “Won’t any of those do for dinner? Do I really need to wear those?” The dresses he’d brought weren’t formal per se, but definitely more professional in nature.
“You weren’t far off the mark when you called Michael arrogant, as much as he despises the implication. He believes there is a certain standard for dress at the dinner table, a habit formed by our parents and one I honor out of respect for him.” He shrugged carelessly, not meeting my eyes and I realized it mattered to him as well. He did it for Michael, yes, but there was more to it than that.
“It was just your parents?” I questioned, turning away to straighten the clothes piled around us, but listening carefully for his answer.
“Our grandparents were also big on formal dinners. They felt a family should sit down together and discuss the day’s activities, current events and such.” There was a hint of pain in his voice as he spoke of them, making me suspect they were no longer here.
“And you enjoyed the dinners with them?” I prodded for answers, feeling his family was a big part of why Ian was how he was.
“Yes, I did. They made time for us, something my parents couldn’t be bothered to do.” He straightened up, meeting my eyes. “And before you ask, they died when I was twelve. Michael cherishes the memories of those dinners by continuing them. I respect his wishes.”
I held up a black cocktail dress and replied simply, “Then so will I.”
A quick thought had me amending my statement. “However, lunch is another matter entirely, and I will watch Michael eat with his hands.”
Ian laughed at my proclamation, but his gaze was thoughtful as he replied, “And I will glory in your success.”
An hour later we left the store with piles of bags which we dumped in Ian’s trunk. He’d talked me into a couple pairs of shorts, and I was wearing the flowered skirt I’d fallen in love with. I’d folded his borrowed clothes into a bag with the other purchases, undecided if I was going to give them back. They were comfortable after all.
He held the car door for me and I slid in, cognizant of the unusual shortness of my skirt. He gave a wolf whistle as I tucked my legs in and I shot him a sharp look. He laughed and shut the door on my frown. After he’d started the car, he turned to ask, “Where to next, love?”
“I could use a snack,” I said hopefully, the morning’s shopping spree having left me famished. He chuckled and pulled into the ever present traffic.
“I think I can solve that.”
A few minutes later he had wedged the car into the tiniest parallel parking space I’d ever seen and come around to my door. He assisted me from the car and as he did I smelled the delicious scent of fried pastry.
“What is that?” I asked him with a deep inhale that made my stomach rumble in pleasure.
“That is beignets and café au lait. A New Orleans favorite.” He replied with a grin, as we walked to an open air café. The dark green awning spelled out Café du Monde, and I sighed happily.
The man at the counter asked what we wanted and after a quick look at me he told the man, “Two orders of beignets, a café au lait, and a milk.” He paid him and tugged me toward one of tables. “It’s still nice out. Hasn’t gotten miserably hot yet.”
“Do you come here often then?” I asked curiously, wondering what exactly Michael and Ian did. I knew Michael had a business and Ian liked to party, but that was the extent of it.
“Not as often as I like. This city has a vibrancy unlike any other I’ve seen, and trust me I’ve seen a few. But New Orleans is special. I’ve come here to party more than anything, but occasionally Michael passes through on business. This will be the longest trip though. Michael is in the process of acquiring a manufacturing company based out of here. He works for our parent’s company. They acquire failing businesses and dismantle them for the parts.” I caught a hint of his distaste for it and was surprised Michael didn’t also object to the career choice.
“That doesn’t sound very nice. Why does Michael do it?” I questioned, and Ian grimaced.
“Make no mistake, sometimes dismantling the company is the only option and a kindness at that, but I believe many of them could be saved, turned around and made successful again. I’ve told Michael this and he agrees.”
“But?”
“Our parents do not and they make the decisions since Father is the CEO and Mother sits on the board. Michael insists on staying with them and so he dismantles perfectly good companies.”
“People lose their jobs when that happens, don’t they?”
He nodded. “It’s not an easy or pleasant job, but Michael manages to do it while allowing them to retain what little dignity they have left. More than I can say for Father.”
I lifted my eyebrow in question and Ian answered.
“Father gloated. He believed he was conquering them, instead of the truth. He was nothing more than a vulture eating the scraps of a once noble thing.”
Our food was set before us then, and at the sight of the golden dough lightly dusted with powdered sugar I forgot what we were discussing. I pi
cked one up, marveling at how light it was and took a bite. Powdered sugar went everywhere, and I discovered there was nothing but air inside of the pastry.
“It’s delicious.” I told him, licking the powdered sugar off my lips.
“Yes, delicious.” He echoed, eyeing me as if I was the snack. He pushed his plate toward me as I finished off my second beignet. They gave you three, but they were so light and sweet, I could have eaten a dozen. The ringing of his phone interrupted us and as he glanced at the screen he smiled delightedly.
“Michael! So good to hear your dulcet tones again. What has you calling?”
He tilted the phone away from his mouth and told me, “He’s checking on us.” He moved the phone back and continued, “Brother, we’ve been shopping and now we’re at Café du Monde. Care to join us?”
“He’s too busy to join us.” Ian said with a nod, giving me Michael’s portion of the conversation as they spoke. I nodded, busy eating Ian’s beignets.
“We didn’t go to any of the places on the list the concierge gave us. I tried, but Jane was quite insistent we go elsewhere. Turns out she’s quite thrifty and looks at price tags.” He paused listening. “Yes, they actually did have price tags at one little boutique we went too. The first place was rather too snobby for our taste. They didn’t want to even look at Jane.” A few minutes of listening and Ian tilted his head toward me.
“Jane love, Michael would like to know if you want him to purchase the first store we went to and fire the rude sales lady?” I blinked at the utter sincerity on his face as he asked me the question.
“Um, no?”
“Jane said no. Granted it didn’t sound like a forceful no, so she might be persuaded otherwise.”
“No!” I waved at him frantically, paying closer attention now as the lady’s job seemed in imminent risk. I hadn’t cared for her but I also didn’t want to see her fired, and at this point I wasn’t sure Michael wouldn’t have the entire store closed down.
“Oh, no. She’s giving me a forceful no now. In fact she seems quite flustered about it. It appears our Jane has a soft heart.” Ian smiled at me, waving his hand to the beignets forgotten on the table. “Go back to your snack, love. Michael has been called off.”
Average Jane Page 8
