Page 20 of Making Over Maris

“Oh. Yeah.” She swallowed. “Right. Clothes shopping. Yes. Let’s, um, go.”

Jack tossed a fistful of twenties at Kriss and nodded his thanks, following Sara from the salon. She kept glancing back at him and blinking and her lips would part and then she’d remember herself and face forward again.

Still, she walked into the door.

The clothing store she’d picked was one he would never have visited before. It was full of what Jack referred to as “metro clothes”. Button-up shirts and cable-knit sweaters and khakis. Not a snarky black t-shirt to be found.

Sara installed him in a dressing room and, with the help of a chirpy sales assistant, brought him outfit after outfit to try on. And he did. Dutifully he tried each one on, studying his reflection in stunned silence as the transformation took place.

It was strange, seeing his body—his new body—decked out in clothes he wouldn’t normally have worn. They weren’t baggy or comfortable and he certainly didn’t feel like himself as he tried on sweater vests and argyle for Sara’s review.

Each time he marched out in a new getup, she and the sales assistant would critique the style. Jack felt like a human mannequin. They would tug at this and prod at that and talk amongst themselves about his form as though he wasn’t even there.

But then…

Then he walked out wearing an Irish cable-knit sweater that clung to his body and outlined his shoulders and flat belly and Sara just stared. The sales assistant stared too.

And that was when things changed.

Because all of a sudden Molly—or Missy, or Maria, or whatever her name was—started flirting.

She sauntered over to him and stroked his chest, murmuring to herself, or to him, or to someone, about how warm the sweater looked. Then she squeezed his upper arm. He couldn’t resist flexing.

She cooed—this cheerleader who wouldn’t have noticed him two months ago—and licked her lips.

Licked ’em real slow. As though they tasted good.

Jack heard Sara’s snort from the other side of the room.

He liked the snort. Liked what it meant. So he decided to play this up. He edged closer to the salesgirl. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“Oh…” Her hand drifted lower to his belly. “Yes.”

“Maybe I should get it then.”

“Oh. Definitely.” She sidled up against him. He could feel her heat. Taste her intent. Smell her arousal.

It was weird.

Weird because having a hottie pant all over him was definitely a departure. But mostly weird because even as this chickadee drooled all over him, his full attention was on Sara.

Sara glaring.

It was awesome.

And frightening.

Because Sara was pissed.

“Better keep going,” he said, stepping away from the sales assistant, grabbing the next outfit in the pile and heading for the dressing room.

“Mmm hmm.” She licked her lips again.

Jack escaped. But barely.

He stepped into the dubious safety of the dressing room and pulled off the sweater, putting it into the “keep” pile. Definitely keep. He was yanking a pair of tight black jeans over his hips when the curtain screeched open. He spun around in shock.

“Oh!” Molly—or whatever her name was—brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes glued to his chest. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were…ready.”

Jack glanced up, past her, to find Sara standing there, arms filled with new outfits. Her gaze was riveted too.

Jack could only assume it was riveted on his milky whiteness. He cringed and grabbed the sweater, covering up the pale expanse.

Tanning.

He was going to have to invest in tanning. Maybe spray tanning like they did on those pageant shows he didn’t tell anyone he watched.

He glared at Molly and yanked the curtain shut.

Damn it all. He wasn’t ready for Sara to see him half-naked. Not nearly ready.

Molly had probably ruined everything.