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“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” He caught up to me with a boyish grin. “Maybe that should be my profile name on the website?”
I arched a brow. “And let us get accused of false advertising? I couldn’t.” I batted my eyelashes and walked away before that woodsy scent he favored worked its way deep into my brain. No, thank you. “More importantly, I wouldn’t.”
“You’re a funny woman, Eva. But, seriously, what’s wrong with my sense of style?” Oliver looked down at his perfectly assembled outfit, blond brows drawn into a confused vee.
I looked up at the first department store on my list. The place was a little more high-end and just up Oliver’s alley, but first we had to deal with his ego. I sighed. “You really want to know?”
He nodded. “Damn right, I do.”
“Okay.” I sighed because it wasn’t my favorite part of the job, and it was a big part of the reason Sophie or Olive were typically present when this part of the assessment took place. “Your wardrobe is stylish, sure. But it says you’re a bachelor, a man-child who refuses to grow up. And not because you’re just naturally childlike, but because you’re too scared of what comes next as an adult.” I didn’t want to keep going, because his face had turned an electric shade of pink and his nostrils flared like butterfly wings. His hands were balled into fists and he was ready to explode. “I’ll be in the suit department when you’re calm.”
Guys like Oliver were good at picking up women because they, too, were good at the cold read, but he resented having that magnifying glass turned on him. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he said with a pout, stopping in front of a rack of silk ties with his arms folded angrily. “Especially not marriage. Or commitment.”
“Okay.” There was no point in arguing this particular point with Oliver. Not only was he totally unreceptive, but this was a bet and if he didn’t take it seriously then it was a win for me. And Time For Love.
“Okay, you believe me?”
I turned to him, holding up a green tie and then a brown one to see which would match better, and shrugged. “Just okay, Oliver.”
“If relationships are so great, why aren’t you in one right now?”
“That’s easy,” I told him, refusing to look his way. I kept my attention on the row of suits. “Because many men think like you do. They’d rather have plenty of women instead of one woman, and they think that having a woman love and care for them is a burden. I’ll never be a burden to anyone.”
“I never said it was a burden.”
“You didn’t have to. You think a simple phone call to say you’ll be late or that you’re having dinner with your friends is something other than just being considerate to someone who cares about you.”
He snorted. “Someone who wants to know my every move, you mean.”
I turned to him with a glare. “No. I mean that maybe she’s making dinner for two or, I don’t know, worried that you’ve been mugged or worse, in a car accident. It’s simple consideration to let people know where you are and any resistance to that is, well, it’s just plain childish.” I handed him two suits, one black and one blue, with ties and matching shirts. “Try these on and then come out so I can see them.”
Blond brows shot up behind his hair. “No jostling?”
“Not unless you don’t actually know one of the key skills every bachelor should know—tying a tie.”
He laughed and disappeared behind the thick brown velvet curtain that lined each fitting room, leaving me to collect my thoughts. I refused to let Oliver March get to me. Again.
He was what my mama would call a ladies’ man. He had no bad intentions, he was just simply a good-time guy. One who was nice and kind, charming and smart. Likeable. Easy to fall in love with, even while he tells you that he won’t fall in love with you. I’d had a guy like him once and still had some of the scars. No, thanks.
“Despite what you think of me, I do know how to tie a tie. A bowtie, too,” he said with pride.
“Congratulations,” I said absently, responding to a few emails while he dressed.
“I don’t need a suit, you know. Jeans and a blazer always gets the job done.”
“I’m sure it does, Oliver. We all know you’ve very handsome and all that jazz, but we’re not talking about taking you home for the night. We’re talking about keeping you forever.” The rustling noise behind the curtain stopped and I had to stifle a laugh. “When a woman is looking for more, she expects more.”
“Like a suit?”
“Like a suit. You’re content with being handsome and stylish, but a man looking for love won’t be able to resist the way his woman looks at him in a suit.” It all came down to motivations, and Oliver’s always skewed toward the temporary.
