Page 43 of Missing Pieces
“What if I have plans tonight?” I question him.
“I was being nice by asking. And I know you don’t have plans. You didn’t say no. So now I am telling you. Be ready at seven.” His tone turning stern.
I roll my eyes at him. “Whatever you say.”
His hands move back down to my butt, squeezing slightly, his voice turning playful. “Oh sweet cheeks, you are gonna be in for a wild ride tonight.”
I run my finger up the center of his chest. “Is that so?”
He smirks. “I have yet to make you country.”
Then he turns around and walks out. No kiss goodbye. Hell, he didn’t even say goodbye!
“I think you best wear those cowboy boots tonight. Prove to him you found a little country in Nashville,” Ivy says from behind me as I watch him walk across the street. I turn around and grin at her because I think she might be on to something.
“I might need your help. I think you should make me look as country as possible.”
She cackles, and I know she is more than happy to help plot something.
* * *
“You sure you don’t like these jeans that much?” Ivy asks me as we go through my closet after work.
I shrug. “I don’t even know the last time I wore them.”
“Good. Bring me some scissors?” She sticks her hand out, opening and closing her palm, waiting.
I walk into the kitchen and grab scissors and bring them back to her.
“What are you going to do with these?” I ask as I hand them to her.
“Magic.”
Really? That’s all she is going to say. I sigh and sit down on the bed. Poe jumps up next to me and rests his head in my lap. I scratch behind his ears and he grunts before rolling onto his back.
“Alright. The magic is done. Now you just need a white t-shirt. A tight one.” Ivy stands up from the floor, hiding whatever “magic” she just worked behind her back.
“Why does it have to be white?” I am pretty sure the only white t-shirt I have might still have a ketchup stain that won’t come out.
Ivy stashes whatever she was hiding and runs to my dresser. “Because.”
She starts throwing clothes out of my drawer left and right. “You are going to pick those up, right?”
“Of course darlin’.” She doesn’t sound very convincing.
I lean back on my elbows on the bed contemplating if I really should have asked her for help. A heather gray V-neck shirt lands on my face and I pull it off. I forgot I had this. And I’m pretty sure it’s from college and probably two sizes too small.
“This is too small. I can’t wear this.”
Ivy places her hands on her hips and stares me down. “Uh-huh, honey. You are puttin’ that on and these.” She throws the denim and me. At least what’s left of the denim. I don’t even think they could pass as shorts, maybe underwear.
“No way. I am not leaving the house in these,” I say while shaking my head. “I’m sure I have a dress I can wear.”
Ivy grabs my arm and pushes me into the bathroom. “You said you wanted my help and I’m giving it. Now humor me and put it on. I wanna see. Then we can decide what color boots to wear.”
I reluctantly change into the damn shorts and t-shirt. I don’t even look in the mirror because I know I look like a hooker. Ivy holds her hands out halting me in place then hands me the brown cowboy boots I had picked up in Nashville. I slip them on and she pulls me in front of the mirror, a smile plastered on her face.
Maybe I was wrong. Even though these shorts feel like my ass is hanging out they fit me perfectly. They show off my semi-muscular legs that I developed from running. I know that if I slightly bend over my ass cheeks will show. The top is a little tight, spilling my cleavage out the top but somehow the whole outfit comes together. I feel sexy for the first time in a long time.