AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mr Townsend. Do I have to eject you for breaking the rules again?”
“I’m not breaking the rules,” Harry said. “I haven’t gone near the change rooms yet.”
“But you intend to,” Beryl said, eye narrowing.
“Actually, these two are mine,” Jack said, grabbing the pig shirt and the blazer. “Harry was just holding them for me.”
Harry nodded along gratefully. “What he said.”
“Well get on with it, then,” Beryl said.
“Um, pardon?” Harry asked, and dammit, he’d forgotten the cardinal rule. Show no weakness.
“Two customers, four items. You can’t have any more until you’ve tried those,” Beryl said, and made a shooing motion towards the cubicles with the badly fitting curtains. She snatched the suit from Harry. “Go on, then.” She got an evil glint in her eye. “And you’d better hope nobody buys this while you’re busy.”
Harry glared.
Beryl glared back.
“Actually,” he said, “I've changed my mind about this one.” He held up the fringed vest. “I’d prefer to try the suit.”
“Too bad,” Beryl said. “I think I’ll put it in the window display. I might mark it as ten dollars, just to get rid of it.” Her eyes narrowed. “I might even buy it myself. For my nephew.”
“You wouldn’t!” Harry gasped. That would mean Beryl was winning.
While he was still trying to figure out how to get his hands on the suit, Jack stepped forward and, in a frankly stunning display of fearlessness, extended a hand to Beryl, “Hi. I’m Jack. Jack Windsor. And I’d like to thank you for spending your free time to help the community.”
What?
Beryl was obviously thinking the same thing. “Are you making fun of me, young man?” she demanded.
“Not at all,” Jack said, flashing her a winning smile. “My father always said volunteers were the lifeblood of his church and the community.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Isn’t it amazing, what some people donate? I must have spent hours helping my mum sort stuff for the parish op shop when I was a kid. Everything from wedding dresses to old underwear.” At her confused expression, he said, “My dad’s a minister. Uniting Church. And he loves people like you who are willing to help out.”
Beryl faltered, obviously uncertain how to take that. Then, impossibly, her face did something that Harry had never seen it do before. It took him a moment to identify what it was, because it looked so wrong, but he had to hold back another gasp when the penny dropped. Beryl was smiling. It was awful and awkward, like a snake with dentures, but it was definitely a smile, and Harry wasn’t sure which had his head spinning more—Beryl smiling, or Jack being a minister’s kid.
Beryl’s eye flicked between Jack, the pile of clothing and the change rooms. “Three items, just this once,” she declared. Harry grinned in victory, right before she poked him in the chest. “Not you. Only him. I like him.”
Something suspiciously like a snicker escaped Jack but he hid it with a cough. “Thank you,” he said from behind his hand, and grabbed the vest from Harry’s hand, which meant Harry was free to snag the suit.
Beryl’s smile disappeared, and her eyes widened. “Wait, that’s not—” But it was too late, because Harry had already bolted for the changerooms.
He dived into the cubicle clutching his prize, wrestling out of his jeans before Beryl came to bodily separate him from the suit, and wiggling his way into the slim-legged suit pants. He put the jacket on over his tee and stared at himself in the mirror. Oh, it was awful. The sleeves were a full inch too short, and so were the pant legs. It fitted badly in the best way, but it was still technically a suit, which meant he could wear it on bad dates with a dress code, and he’d get to see the specific eye-twitch that him wearing this would doubtless evoke in potential fathers-in-law.
“Jack, you have to see this!” He stepped out of the change room and pulled back the curtain of the one next door—and promptly lost the power of speech, because Jack was naked from the waist up, and Jack?—
Jack had tattoos.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Jack wasn’t particularly buff, and he had a tradie’s tan that stopped halfway up his biceps and gave way to pale skin, but the dark ink twisting across one shoulder and down onto his right pec was fascinating. He was somehow beautiful, attractive in a visceral way that evoked feelings Harry had never had for anyone else.
“Um,” Harry said, face heating. “Sorry. I’ll just?—”
“Oh wow, that suit really is terrible,” Jack said. He made no move to cover up, apparently unaware of the short circuit he was causing in Harry’s brain right now. “You definitely need to buy it.”
Harry blinked and remembered why he’d opened the curtain in the first place. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’m gonna get it.”
“Will you wear it tonight?” Jack asked, oblivious to the chaos his naked torso was unleashing. Harry wondered if it would be rude to ask him to put a shirt on. Then he wondered if it would be rude to ask him to never wear one again. Then he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. Jack was staring at him, brow furrowed. “On your date?” he prompted. Oh right. Jack had asked him a question.
Harry dragged his gaze away from Jack's inked chest and managed to answer. “Nah, I’ll save this for a top-level date. A wedding, maybe.”
