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“I mean, it’s not an issue for the farm, but if you want to ride, you should have pants—for protection, otherwise you’ll likely hurt your legs.” She winces. “I have a few spares.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I doubt they’d fit me.”
Violet shrugs. “Actually, we’re not such a different size overall, and the material is stretchy. It should be fine.”
I sincerely doubt it, but I let her lead me to her room after breakfast anyway.
The walk-in closet is huge, but between her clothes and Rhys’s extensive collection of suits and shoes, it’s filled to the brim. I’m surprised she finds what she’s looking for immediately.
I eye the pants dubiously, struggling to remember the last time I wore any that didn’t make me look like a wannabe porn star.
“Go ahead, feel free to try it on in the bathroom.”
While I’ve been in her room a couple of times, I’ve never stepped into her bathroom.
I was highly impressed with mine, but this one is next level. I shake my head, the novelty of the displays of wealth never wearing off. What does that shower do, take people into space? It looks like it might.
I remove my boots to try the riding pants, and to my astonishment, I somehow manage to slide them past my hips. It’s not even uncomfortable.
“What the hell?”
I glance at myself in the mirror on the bathroom wall.
I need to know the brand of these pants and I need ten pairs of them. Twenty. Every color available.
“So, do they fit?” Violet asks.
“Like a fucking glove. It’s amazing, Vi. I mean, no offense, but my ass and yours should definitely not fit in the same pants.”
“Don’t I know it.” She chortles. “I was wearing slightly baggier stuff the last couple of years, so I figured it’d be perfect for you. You can keep them—they do nothing for my ass.”
Mine looks awesome, without seeming too lewd. The material is thick and well cut, so I don’t get the camel toe that I associate with tight pants.
“I can buy them from you,” I offer, tired of being a charity case.
“They’reused pants, Sarah. I was going to donate them. Take them.”
I sigh, coming out of the bathroom. I really need pants, so I nod. “Okay, but I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing.” She hands me a polo shirt similar to hers, in dark red.
Violet’s busty, so I’m less surprised to see the top fits perfectly.
“Bex just texted. She’s pulling up. Ready?”
A last glance in the mirror shows a person I don’t recognize; the kind of girl whowouldgo horse riding at a friend’s stable like it’s no big deal. Funny what overpriced clothes can do to a girl.
“Coming!”
34
SARAH
Igroan out loud as Violet climbs in the back of a familiar dark car. Seriously?
I told myself I need to stay away from Marius—refuse to accept lifts from him, give him a wide berth, and overall pretend we’re exactly what we are: perfect strangers.
But how the hell can I do that when he won’t stay away fromme?
