Page 83 of The Billionaire Mismatch

I glance back in the store, but my phone buzzes again.

Olivia: No plans yet…

Sadie: The Blue Olive Lounge it is. See you there.

Right.

Luca reappears, and I shove my phone back in my pocket.

“Did you get lost?” I ask with a forced smile.

“No, I had a call from work,” he says, and I’m grateful for it. And for the second time today, I am flustered and need a reroute to keep him from noticing.

“Alright, well, if you’re ready, the next stop is two doors down,” I say, and he follows.

“A thrift store?” he asks as we step inside, even more apprehensive than he was at the jewelry shop.

“Yes!” I grin, letting out a decompressive sigh. At the same time, I swear Luca tenses up and I can’t help but giggle.

“It smells funny,” he says. He hesitantly follows me as I grab a cart.

“Have you never been in a thrift store before, Mr. Laurent?” I ask. Luca’s eyes dart around as if he is worried that people will know who he is now that I’ve said his name.

“I have. When I was a kid. My mom loved them. Why do you need a cart?”

“Because I’m going to find things,” I answer.

“What kinds of things?”

“Whatever things I find,” I say. I don’t even have to look back at him to know his face is screwed into a confused and constipated expression.

I love it.

And I do find things. I found a coffee cup that looks like the worm’s apple-shaped car from Richard Scarry and a crocheted throw for my couch. From there I head to the dress rack.

“Doesn’t it bother you wearing clothes other people have worn?” Luca asks as he watches me sift through the dresses.

“No. Actually, I prefer it,” I answer, pulling out a rose and white maxi dress with a cutout in the front and a strappy back. “Someone chose this at a store, wore it until their mood changed and then handed it over. And now, it’s catching my eye. It’s like everything in here is living more than one life, serving different people in different seasons.”

“You could find the same thing but better at Banana Republic,” he says dryly, but I just toss him a sassy smile.

“Watch my cart,” I tell him.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To try it on,” I call back.

“Without washing it?” he asks, and several women around me giggle.

“Seriously, Olivia,” Luca says, his voice close to the dressing room curtain. “If you want a new dress, I can buy you one. One that has never been used. One from any store–department store–you choose. One that–”

Luca’s sentence is chopped in half when I walk out. His eyes run over me slowly, down, up and down again before his eyes meet mine.

“Alright. You win. Put it in the cart,” he says and I smile. I walk back into the dressing room and catch my reflection in the mirror. I am blushing at his response, and I don’t even care.

We walk back to the car with my goodies in hand, and Luca’s posture is relaxed again. A small smile tips his lips upward at the corners. He’s not grinning, but he’s not frowning either. I know Luca Laurent well enough to decipher what it means.

He’s enjoying himself.