Page 147 of All Packed Up

“Do I need to go through this whole pile while you’re still standing here?” she asked, trying not to laugh.

But it was impossible when Griffith shrugged, held his hands out innocently. “I’m not saying yeah, but I’m not not saying no.”

“What?”

“What?” he echoed.

With a groan and a grin threatening to curl her lips, she turned back to the pile.

When Griffith had first handed her the pile, she didn’t give it much thought. But now that she was going through his choices, she questioned whether she’d wear any of it.

But it was fun to try on the silly polka dotted shirt with the plaid skirt and a scarf. Who wore scarves?

When she opened the door to show off the outfit, Griffith snorted.

“What? Don’t like it?” she asked, spinning in a circle. “I think this belongs at fashion week.”

“I’ve clearly missed my calling,” he responded, words dripping in sarcasm.

This time he held out a hanger, and the item dangling from it made her jaw drop. “No way.”

“Yes.”

“No,” she said again.

“Wendy, come on!” he urged. “You have to.”

“Why me?”

“Because it’s your size, see?”

Checking the tag proved that yes, Grif was indeed correct. With the heaviest sigh in the world, and a soft roll of her eyes, she shut the door again and laughed at her reflection.

Her cheeks were pink and there was a smile on her face, and it wasn’t even scary.

Didn’t she have a giant blinking sign above her head that said, “Hello. I’ve been traumatized by my pack. How are you today?”

But no, no signs blinked in her reflection.

Stripping off the awkward combo, Wendy eyed the new item Griffith had brought her.

It was a pair of denim overalls with a pale pattern across the surface. They looked so…

Cute, fashionable, attractive. Those weren’t the words she’d use to describe them.

But as she stepped into them and pulled them up her legs, she realized they were insulated, and butter soft on the inside. Grabbing a shirt from the pile, she pulled it on and attached the denim straps in the front.

“Huh.” Wendy hummed.

They actually weren’t hideous, and a grin crawled across Wendy’s lips.

“Griffith,” she drawled as she cracked the door. “I think you’ve done it.”

His chuckle was deep, and the smile on his face was sweet. “Perfect. You’re runway ready.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said. “They’re comfy. They’re kinda silly. They’re—”

“They have cat butts on them, Wendy,” he pointed out.