Page 20 of Theirs to Treasure

“Try on the other outfit,” he tells me. “Here’s some shoes to go with it.”

“Are you a fashion designer?” I ask.

“Merely a connoisseur of beautiful women,” he replies.

I hate how weak his words make me. I want to agree to anything—and everything he might suggest.

Minutes later, I have to admit the outfit is absolutely perfect. And the shoes and the flats that he picked out for me are wonderful too.

Since I’m planning to join them for dinner, and getting back into my wedding gown will take too long, I opt to change into the black dress.

Without a backward glance, I leave the expensive gown in a discarded puddle on the floor.

When I get to the checkout counter, I see Zev has added underwear and bra to my purchases.

I stand there horrified.

“You’ll need them,” he says with a shrug. “Do you have a pair of scissors?” he asks the clerk.

As he snips off the price tag, my purchases are rung up. And when the woman presents me with the total my mouth falls open.

My fingers are shaking as I turn over the credit card.

Happily she takes it and swipes away.

Then her eyes open wide, and she shakes her head as she looks at me. “I’m sorry, dear. Do you have a different form of payment?”

Mortified beyond words, I pray the floor will open up and swallow me.

The cash in my wallet won’t even begin to cover this expense.

Forrest immediately steps in. “It’s on my account.”

“No.”Trying to convey my urgency, I touch his wrist.

The winking of jewels in his ring distracts me. They seem to be small emeralds, set as eyes in an owl. Because they’re so unusual, I lose my train of thought.

When he nods at the woman, I shake my head to regain my focus. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Of course you can,” Zev replies easily, as if this kind of thing is an everyday occurrence to them.

“You don’t understand.” Frantically I shake my head. “I don’t have a job, and I can’t afford any of this stuff.” How could I ever have let my life come to this?

“We’ll consider it a gift,” Forrest assures me.

The clerk casts her glance toward a customer who is signaling a need for help, making me feel guilty for monopolizing her time.

Still, I stubbornly tilt my chin. “I won’t be bought.”

“I was never suggesting such a thing.”

“We’ll sort it out later,” Zev offers.

If I don’t accept, I’ll have to go back into the dressing room and put my wedding gown back on. That’s something I refuse to do.

Humiliated, I nod. “I’m not sure how long it will take me to pay you back.”

After Forrest gives his name and room number, she begins to wrap up my selections.