Page 12 of Made to be His ( The Archer Family 1)

He held up his hand to silence her. "Your shopping privileges have been revoked. You are obviously not to be trusted. I'm going to pick out clothes and you're going to try them on. That's the deal."

"I should get veto power on—"

"No. You do what I say. End of story." He stared down at her, and though she narrowed her eyes back at him, she knew she’d lost the fight.

"I'm going to take that as agreement. You stay here." He turned his back without waiting for her reply. Not that she blamed him. If their past interactions were anything to go by, the smart money was on a fight flaring up if they stayed in the same place for too long.

Faster than she would have thought, he returned with a pretty saleswoman whose arms were laden with—

No.

"I refuse." She swallowed hard and stepped back, but a hanger from the rack behind her dug into her skin. She sidestepped it and put her hands out in front of her. She wasn’t going to wear them. He couldn’t make her.

"I gave you the chance to leave. You agreed to stay. This is the deal." He took the clothes from the saleswoman and thrust the hangers toward her.

"There should have been clearer stipulations. Those”—she pointed at the mound of fabric—“are fashion's version of oppression. They are man’s way of keeping women down."

No way. No way in hell was she wearing a dress. Her knees had not seen the sun since the early nineties and she was more than okay with that.

"I'll strip you and make you try them on if I have to." His expression was a little too serious for her liking. Worse was the way her body responded to the suggestion. Like it was volunteering for him to try.

“Should I see if I can find something more—“ the saleswoman started, batting her long lashes at Logan with something a little more than enthusiastic customer service, but he cut her off.

“I think we’re just fine. Thanks.”

A strange pleasure rushed through Andy at his curtness. Apparently, the woman noticed, too, because her simper ebbed the slightest bit. Pressing her lips together, the sales lady—whose nametag said ‘Pam,’ added, “Actually, sir, now that I’m looking, I’m not sure we’ve got the right size. The hips are a little—“

“It’s the right size. Trust me,” Logan said.

Pam glanced from Logan to Andy, disbelief coloring her too-sharp cheekbones. Andy could practically read the other woman’s thoughts—“Are they together?” Based on her contorted expression, it was the most abhorrent question she’d had to ask herself in a long, long time.

Apparently professional to the core, Pam asked, “Right, well, would you like me to show you to the dressing rooms, then?”

“Please.” This time, he didn’t even look at her. His gaze was full of steely determination and all of it was centered on Andy.

Her heart thudded harder under his scrutiny, and it wasn’t until he started off that she noticed the woman was already trotting ahead of them, her ass swaying pointedly with every step she took.

So much for professionalism, apparently.

“I bet the size is wrong. We should probably check—“ Andy tried, but Logan only glanced over his shoulder and offered her an eye rol

l.

“I’ve seen enough dress labels on my floor to guess what size you are.”

Logan smirked as she padded into her newfound cell, but stopped the door from closing. Leaning in, he added, "You're to come out and show me each outfit. Or no dice."

"I have to show you the outfit or you're not going to force me to wear them? Those are some pretty big dice, chief."

“Just do it,” he said, then closed the door with a little snap.

Moment of truth. Maybe she could snake under the stall all Mission-Impossible-like and get out of it? But even as she calculated her escape route, she was pulling her jersey over her head and making sure not to look at her naked body in the mirror. She'd had enough humiliation and self-loathing today to last her a lifetime, and it wasn't even noon yet.

She held up the first dress, expecting something slinky or sparkly, and was surprised to find that it was plain: a light sort of sea foam green, with a flared skirt and a heart-shaped cut out on the back.

With a deep breath, she muscled into it only to find that it was…

Well...nice. Weirdly so. And airy, too.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com