She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone clothes shopping. After starting her career, she’d stocked her closet with basics—slacks, skirts, blazers—all in black, along with a few sweaters, blouses, and other professional tops. Everything being mix and match, allowed her to grab and go. When one of her pieces showed wear, she replaced it. The only difficulty came when her previous purchase was discontinued.
Standing in front of the display window, McKenna stared at the outfit that caught her eye last night. Talking with Grace and then Zane had gotten McKenna thinking. Was she keeping herself too separate from the rest of town? She might have dismissed Grace’s comment, except she was a newcomer, too. If she thought there might be a problem, McKenna needed to seriously consider the issue.
Last night when she joined Grace and her friends, McKenna felt awkward and out of place for numerous reasons. One being how she was dressed. The other women appeared more comfortable, like they belonged in Wishing. Houston had been more city than Texas in terms of work attire. But in Wishing, folks definitely dressed with a Texas flare, wearing jeans and cowboy boots everywhere, including church. They simply wore their Sunday best boots and jeans. No one wore basic black unless it was to a funeral. She hated that Zane had been right about that.
She glanced at the outfit again. While the necklace was a little ostentatious for her tastes and she wasn’t sure about the belt, if she changed to a smaller, more delicate and less conspicuous turquoise necklace and a plain leather belt, the outfit wouldn’t be Mars distance out of her comfort zone.
But what would Zane say when he saw her changed wardrobe? With his ego, he’d think it due to him. That she had been bothered by his comments on her clothes and hair. Her hair. She smoothed a hand along her temple to her bun the way she did a hundred times a day to check for neatness. Did her hair make her less approachable? Uppity? She reached up, took down the bun, and removed her ponytail holder. Then she combed her fingers through her hair. Not comfortable wearing it down, she swept it back not quite as tight, in a softer style she’d seen brides or attendants wear.
Baby steps.
The rumble and click of the lock opening drew McKenna’s attention. A tall woman dressed in a formfitting cream lace skirt, a T-shirt with a horse on the front, a denim jacket, and boots opened the door. “Sorry you had to wait on me. I had to gas up my truck since I was running on fumes.” The woman stepped aside and invited McKenna in.
The shop displayed an eclectic mix of clothing. One area showcased what McKenna considered traditional women’s western wear of sturdy jeans and colorful cotton blouses. Another section contained trendier western clothes such as rhinestone-studded jeans and shirts, T-shirts with western sayings likeSunshine and Whiskey, and long flowing skirts. Near the cash register stood racks of earrings and necklaces. The back of the store displayed cowboy boots in various styles and more colors than she could’ve imagined.
“My name’s Rosalie. Welcome to my shop. Is there anything special you’re looking for?”
McKenna introduced herself, but before she could ask about the outfit, Rosalie said, “You’re working with Ginny Logan? I’d have pegged you for a tourist. I’m surprised we haven’t met before.”
Another hint that I’m too isolated? Really?McKenna smiled and spouted her standard excuse about being too busy settling in to explore the town and its wonderful shops.
A big smile on her face, Rosalie said, “I’m right glad to meet you now. I heard tell Ginny hired an assistant. ’Bout time if you ask me. How that woman’s managed her business all these years with only Opal to handle the books is beyond me.”
McKenna replied yes, Ginny worked too hard. “I’m hoping to take part of the workload off her once she returns.”
“And speaking of Ginny. She called yesterday wanting a bottle of hand lotion. One thing you’ll find here in town is we businesspeople shop local whenever we can.”
Okay. I get the message. I need to quit being such a hermit and get out in town more. You can stop dropping hints.
“Would you mind taking it to her since I can’t get away until after I close at six?”
McKenna replied she’d be happy to and resisted the urge to look at her watch. This was why she preferred online shopping. She’d hoped to pop in, try on the outfit, buy it if it fit, and head to work. But here she was, having to make small talk. “The outfit in the window, the brown skirt and blouse caught my eye.”
“Then let’s find your sizes so you can try it on.”
A minute later McKenna found herself in the dressing room with the outfit, including the concho belt. Rosalie proved quite the salesperson. After changing, she glanced in the mirror and felt as if she were staring at someone else. The blouse’s fitted style felt odd. Ever since middle school when her father teased her about her weight, she’d worn loose-fitting clothes. Even in college after losing fifteen pounds because she walked more living in one of the farthest out dorms, she hadn’t been brave enough to wear a blouse and skirt like this.
But staring in the mirror, she liked the image staring back.
Her father’s advice pounded in her head.Good thing you’re smart, McKenna, since you’ll never be the beauty your sister is or have money like your mother did. Though God knows her money didn’t help us any.
No. She wouldn’t let him spoil how great she felt. She would fit in here in Wishing because the town could, one day, be her home. No more moving. How wonderful would that be—to be in control of her career and never have to relocate again? The possibility left her almost giddy.
Not only would she fit in, she wanted to. What would being part of a community feel like? She couldn’t imagine, but she found herself excited to find out.
She glanced in the mirror again. She shouldn’t spend the money. She should make do with her current wardrobe until she crawled out of debt. But wasn’t purchasing this outfit, maybe an additional one or two more, and something appropriate for weddings an investment in her future?
The bell over the door jingled as it opened. “Mornin’, Rosalie. Ginny asked me to pick up hand cream for her.”
McKenna closed her eyes and fought her urge to find a back door to sneak out of as the familiar, husky voice washed over her. Could she stay in the dressing room until he left?
You’re going to hide? You’ll have to face him at work. Might as well do it now. Plus, hiding isn’t your style.
Plastering a bright smile on her face despite her wiggly Jell-O insides, she stepped out of the dressing room, carrying her folded old clothes in front of her.
Pretend nothing’s different.
Zane’s clear green eyes widened and then a slow, sexy grin spilled across his face. Her pulse jumped in response. “You look too nice in that outfit to wear those butt-ugly shoes.”
