Monday mornings were always slow at the shop, which gave Liz and Sofia lots of time to catch up. Around noon, Sofia headed off toward the food court where she liked to people watch during her lunch break. This left Liz to sweep the floors and do some extra tidying up in the hopes they would see a busier afternoon.
She hummed along to the radio as she cleaned, not realizing someone else had entered the store until a shadow fell over her path. She turned quickly and saw none other than Dorian Whitley with his hand raised as if he were about to caress her from behind.
“You!” she spat with a cold, hard voice she barely recognized as her own.
“You.” He gave this rejoinder without blinking, then added, “I didn’t know you worked here.”
Liz didn’t believe this visit was anything other than pre-meditated. She wanted to call Dorian out on it, to yell until he went away, but she knew better than to chew out a customer in the middle of the sales floor. Even if Sofia didn’t care, the franchise owner would. And Liz would be out of a job faster than she could bat an eyelash.
“Well, now you know.” She sniffed and turned away. While she doubted her stepsisters were allergic to Samson, it definitely seemed she’d developed an aversion to Dorian Whitley.
“Wait.” He took quick steps, coming up in front of her again. “I need your help.”
She laughed in his face. “My help? You mean with your article?”
He shook his head, keeping his expression blank. “No. With finding an outfit.”
“An outfit?” Liz asked, raising a hand to her hip. She doubted he could afford to shop here given the crumpled, tired look of his current outfit, but it was her job to help anyone willing to spend money at her store. “What do you need the outfit for?”
“For meeting my girlfriend’s parents,” he said smoothly. Dorian proved to be a much better liar than her stepsisters, but somehow, she knew he wasn’t being honest with her.
She stared straight into his dappled green eyes, but they gave nothing away. “Your girlfriend?”
“Right. Like I said before, you’re not my type. My girlfriend is much prettier than you. Her name is Janie.” His eyes widened as if he expected this revelation to make her feel something. She honestly still didn’t know whether he was flirting or interrogating—and she couldn’t be sure which option she preferred, either.
Liz rolled her eyes and groaned. “Are you ever nice?”
He smiled, and it almost made him seem charming. “Not if I can help it.”
“Well, unfortunately, I have to help you. Which I’m guessing you know, and that’s why you’re here. But I refuse to talk about anything other than which clothes you should get.”
Another smile. This one so wide it showed off two rows of perfectly white teeth. “Whatever you say.”
“Good. Now, tell me where you’re meeting Janie’s parents, so we can pick an outfit and get you out of my store.” Liz didn’t have any friends named Jane—let alone Janie—yet the name did seemed familiar. She wondered if perhaps she had met Dorian’s girlfriend once upon a time. That is, if such a mythical being could even exist in the real world.
As it was, she trusted nothing that came out of Dorian’s mouth.
“We’re going horseback riding and then having a picnic on the beach,” he explained.
Liz sighed. Again with the horseback riding. He had mentioned it during their wedding dance, asked if she was a fan. Her mind again flashed to the brown and cream animal looking out from beneath long, dark lashes.
“Well, that sounds like a nice evening. You should stick with jeans for the outdoorsy stuff.” Liz led Dorian over to the wall display filled with jeans of all washes, sizes, and styles. “You look like a 34 tall. Go with the dark wash. It’ll hide the dirt better. Here.” She grabbed a pair from one of the higher shelves and pushed it into his chest. “Try these on.”
“Actually, these are way out of my budget.” Not a hint of embarrassment flickered between them. Either he was incredibly used to being poor, or he had come for a reason other than shopping.
Liz would hardly be surprised by either possibility. “The clearance section is in the back,” she muttered, doubting he would bother to keep up the charade.
She traced her way back to the register and waited behind the counter until Dorian left the store. She didn’t have to wait long, because about five minutes later, he returned with a frown on his face.
“Yeah, I’m not going to get anything, but thanks anyway,” he said, hovering near the counter.
“Okay, buh-bye then.” She gave a sarcastic little wave, hoping he’d just leave already.
But Dorian looked as if he wanted to say something more. He licked his lips, and…
The return of Sofia saved Liz from having to hear whatever he had planned to say. She walked straight up to Dorian with the fake smile she’d perfected for their customers. “Hey, there. Welcome to our store. How can I help?”
“He was on his way out,” Liz answered for him, staring at him, daring him to say otherwise.
Sofia shrugged and disappeared into the back.
Liz watched her walk away, and by the time she turned back toward Dorian, the store was once again empty.
Did Dorian get what he came for, or would she be seeing him again before whatever this was had been finished?
His visit did accomplish one thing. Liz spent the rest of the day fuming, wishing she had never met Dorian Whitley.
A part of her felt as if she still hadn’t met him.
This man had secrets—perhaps about her—and she’d only come face to face with his false front.
Next time, she wouldn’t be so polite. Next time, she would expose the true man beneath the mask.
Scars and all.