Page 44

We follow as I say, “Did I hear you right? Did you say brown tweed?”

Owen holds his hand up. “Trust me,” he says. “I know what I’m doing.”

We arrive at an aisle, and the sales assistant, whose name badge reads Rob, pulls a suit from the rail.

Checking the size, Owen takes the hanger from him and runs his hand down the material as if needing a moment with the suit.

“Changing rooms are this way, and you’ll need a white shirt,” Rob interrupts Owen’s moment. I want to tell him to back off and give Owen the time he needs, but then he’s steering us to the back of the shop and grabbing shirts along the way.

I shake my head as we follow Rob.

Owen glances at me and says, “You have no faith in me, do you?”

I smile. “I do. It’s just that my grandma has a sofa made out of the same material,” I say as we reach the changing rooms.

“I need a tie in gold and a pocket handkerchief to match,” Owen tells Rob, who nods and scurries off as if on a scavenger hunt.

Owen selects a booth, and just before he closes the curtain, he says, “Trust me,” and winks.

It’s suddenly very hot in here.

I find myself pacing outside the cubicle and wanting Rob to return so I can talk to someone rather than replaying that wink over and over in my head. If I thought Owen was hot before, then heaven only knows what category he’s in now after that.

Thankfully, it isn’t long before Rob is back.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d be selling one of these suits today?” I say, smirking at Rob, expecting him to agree with me, but instead, he scowls.

“Brown tweed is more popular than you’d think.” He eyes me like I’m some kind of moron.

“Is that so?”

But before Rob can wow me with the latest sales figures, Owen pulls back the curtain, and I’m speechless.

I thought I’d be making jokes about him just missing his shotgun and a flat cap, or that he’d missed the hunt and they’d left without him. Instead, I can’t quite take in how exquisite he looks. I mean, he always looks dapper, even for work, but this is something else.

My grandma’s sofa is nowhere to be seen as he buttons up the waistcoat and shakes out the sleeves of the jacket.

It’s perfect. The colour blends seamlessly with the blond of his hair and brings out the natural tan of his skin.

Wordlessly, Rob hands him the handkerchief, which Owen expertly folds and places in the breast pocket. Then Rob passes him the tie, and Owen begins to put it on.

Feeling like a spare part, I step forwards. “Here, let me help.” I take the tie from him and begin to fasten it.

I can feel his eyes on me as I loop the tie, and I wonder if his thoughts could be anywhere near my own, about how natural this feels, how well we work as a pair.

“There,” I tell him and take a step back.

“It’s a great fit,” Rob chips in. “What’s the occasion?”

“Wedding,” we answer at the same time as Owen walks out of the changing room to admire himself in the large mirror hanging opposite us.

“Wait.” I pull my dress from the bag and slip the hanger over my head, letting it cover what I’m wearing before positioning myself next to him, our reflections staring back at us in the full-length mirror.

God, this man is good, because we are stunning. Our outfits look made to match, the flecks of the tweed blending harmoniously with the gold in my dress. We even appear as if we’ve coordinated our hair colour, his blond quiff setting off my unruly mass of golden locks. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about what I’m wearing.

“I hate to say I told you so.” Owen smirks.

I nudge him. “I never doubted you.”