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Sterling threw a French fry across the table. Hearing that he had Moby’s support had lightened his mood enough that he didn’t even mind the teasing. It didn’t take away that possessive feeling he had thinking about Reese, but he wasn’t going to give in to that.
“Look, I’m not looking for a relationship, so if you’re interested in either Morgan or Reese, go for it. Just know that if you make things messy, we’re sharing a tour bus. It could get ugly.”
“I don’t plan to make things messy. You have no idea the kind of game I’ve got,” Moby said. “You should watch and learn. Maybe you’ll even decide to stop being a monk.”
“Doubtful,” Sterling said.
If anything, watching Moby pursue Reese would make him back even farther away from the idea of a girlfriend. Moby was a good guy. If Reese liked him, that would be a good thing for her. And it would help Sterling keep his focus where it needed to be: on his career, not a pair of beautiful gray-blue eyes.
* * *
Reese ran her hands over the racks of shirts. Normally she loved shopping, but today her mind had blanked out. Nothing looked or felt right. She and Morgan had taken an Uber to a nearby Ross, one of her go-to discount stores for clothes, shoes, bags, and random household things like cutting boards or completely unnecessary candlesticks shaped like elephants. She wanted clothes that weren’t so formal as the business-casual outfits she brought. But she found herself second-guessing everything. Morgan had a cart full of clothes she was maneuvering through the narrow aisles, but Reese hadn’t even picked up one thing to try on.
“What’s going on?” Morgan said. “Where are your clothes?”
“I just can’t figure out what I want,” Reese said.
“Maybe it’s decision fatigue. Or overwhelm. Could I help? I’ve dabbled with being a stylist on the side, you know. I’m pretty decent.”
“Really? I mean, I can see that you’ve got great style. I’m not sure I have a style. I mostly just wear clothes. Like, I buy shirts I like and pants I like and then I wear them. I’m not sure they really fit together or could be called a style per se.”
Morgan laughed. “There is nothing I’d love more than to dress you. For real. It would be way more fun than trying stuff on myself. Seriously. Let me! Let me!”
Reese shook her head. Morgan had her hands clasped under her chin, pleading. “Okay, fine. I’m not making any decisions anyway. How do we start?”
“First, I need to know what you like, don’t like, and what you will absolutely never wear. I have a sense of who you are. Especially after listening in on your session with Sterling. Which, by the way, was epic.”
“Really? I felt like a total failure. I mean, I got nothing out of the guy. He’s like Alcatraz.”
Morgan laughed again and started going through the racks of shirts. “He’ll get better. I think that was a great start to get him trusting you. Just wait. It’s only been—what? A day?”
“Feels like longer,” Reese said.
“Hopefully not in a bad way.”
“No, I just mean I feel like I’ve known you forever and it just feels like a lot has happened in a day.”
“Tours will do that to you. It will start going faster,” Morgan said. “But I know what you mean. You and I totally connected. I love it. Sterling will let you in. Give him time. Now, let’s talk about you. I see your style as somewhat playful. Maybe with a bit of an edge. Mature without looking like a buttoned-up capital-A adult. Despite what you’re currently wearing.”
Reese looked down. “Yeah, I have to wear this kind of stuff for work. I hate it.”
“I could help with that, too. Give you some ideas of more fun business-casual stuff that isn’t so, um …”
“Boring? Stuffy? Old lady.”
Morgan linked her arm through Reese’s. “Stick with me, girl. I’m going to bring out the Reese that’s been stuffed inside those basic clothes for too long.”
An hour and a half later, Reese collapsed on the small bench inside the dressing room. She felt like she had tried on half the store. Most of which Morgan hated. Reese didn’t have as much of an opinion, it turned out. Whenever Morgan gave a thumbs-up, that went into the basket. She didn’t even know how much she was buying or what the total was going to be. She hardly ever splurged, so it would be fine. The bigger concern was getting it all in a suitcase, which she also needed to purchase before they left.
“Are you alive in there?” Morgan called through the dressing room door.
“No. I’m definitely dead,” Reese said.
A sparkly black dress appeared over the door. Reese groaned. “Shut up and put this on.”
“I don’t need a dress. When am I possibly going to wear this?”
“I’m sure you’ll have a time to wear this. We might hit up a club or get to do a more formal event or something. Put the dress on. I think it’s going to be fabulous.”
