Even though it was getting blatantly apparent that I was now moved in with a man that really did it for me. In all ways.
What a horrible, no good, very bad idea.
• • •
Bindy turned out to be great.
Other than asking me out on a date, which I declined, she was reasonably priced—though Easton paid for it—and didn’t do very much small talk.
By the time I’d walked out of the dress shop with my formal dress in hand, I was well on the way to being in a, dare I say it, good mood.
It was a surreal feeling to be able to buy something that I wanted.
And I’d bought quite a few somethings, including a dress, panties, and a matching strapless bra.
I hadn’t had a new bra in so long that I couldn’t even count the days.
I arrived at Easton’s place, via my rig, with about thirty-five minutes to spare before we’d need to leave for the police ball.
It was just enough time to go upstairs and apply mascara, a smidge of eyeshadow and eyeliner, get dressed, and head out.
I pulled in just in time to see him opening the front door to scowl at me.
When I got out with the bag in hand, he scowled harder.
“What?” I asked.
“I told you to do your hair,” he growled.
I resisted touching it since she said it might cause the loose waves to uncurl.
Instead, I touched the very ends and said, “She did. She said since my hair was so shiny and sleek, that I should leave it down anyway. She gave me a trim, put these curls in it that are having a hard time holding since my hair is naturally so straight, and then sent me home with a new bottle of hair spray to spray on before we go.”
The frown stayed. “And why did you take your truck? I left the keys out to my truck so you wouldn’t have to drive the Hulk through town.”
I snorted. “A, had I known that was an option, I wouldn’t have driven my truck. You know how hard it is to find parking for it? And B, thank you. I spent exactly three hundred and two dollars. I found the formal dress at the Goodwill of all places. The bra and underwear were new, but those were from Walmart. Don’t worry. I made sure that I grabbed one that was packaged. I don’t do underwear from Walmart unless I can wash them first.”
He sighed. “I thought you’d go to an actual store to find these clothes.”
“I did,” I said. “Are you ready?”
I looked down at his black pants, white t-shirt, and sockless feet curiously.
“No,” he grumbled. “I can’t get the jacket on, nor can I get the button-up shirt halfway up my arms before my ribs start to scream. I need your help.”
I gave him a thumbs up and moved around him. “Then let me get dressed and ready really quick.”
Which was exactly what I did.
“Can you put your arms back here so I can just lift it up your shoulders? Or would that cause too much pain?” I requested.
He did it as well as he could, and I eventually got the shirt up his arms and over his shoulders before coming around to the front and starting on the buttons.
My knuckles brushed his lower belly, and I had to hold in the moan that threatened to spill from my lips at the hardness of his abdomen.
“How often do you work out?” I wondered.
He sucked in his gut and caused me to look up into his eyes as he said, “Why? Is my belly in the way? I haven’t gone in a few weeks.”