Just Josh

Chapter Six

Josh took one look at what Avery was wearing when she exited the cab on Fifth Avenue and knew he was right to insist on a shopping trip. It was the weekend, for chrissake, didn't she ever let her hair down?

The pale gold locks were twisted into another elaborate knot on the back of her head. But while there was no arguing she was a looker - high cheekbones, creamy skin, finely arched brows, large sparkling green eyes, full lips and a delicately pointed chin - when coupled with what she was wearing, her image was uptight and severe. 

From his position leaning against a wall, his gaze skimmed down her body, over the all white ensemble she was wearing. White, short sleeved jacket with a high rounded neckline and giant white buttons down the front. White, knee length skirt. White heels. White or not, with the temperatures so unseasonably high, it had to be hot as fuck in there. 

"Is the president arriving in the next car?"

She blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You look like Jackie Kennedy."

Her face brightened, one elegant hand smoothing over her flat stomach. "Thank you."

Josh shook his head. "Wasn't a compliment. Guys aren't gonna want to come near you if there's a chance it'll involve a cavity search by the Secret Service." He unfolded his arms and picked up his crutch, shoving his arm into it before pushing off the wall. "Do you even own a pair of jeans?"

She sighed, pressed her lips together and glanced up at the storefront. "If you're going to make me look like a hooker isn't this place a little too high class?"

"High class hooker is exactly the look we're aiming for." He angled his head in the direction of the glass doors. "Come on. Let's go see if we can find your cleavage in there."

"You can't talk like that in a store like this."

"Guy with the fully loaded credit card can say whatever the fuck he wants."

"About that..." She hesitated in front of the glass doors and hoisted her chin up a notch. "Anything we purchase today, I'll be buying."

"Uh-uh," Josh said firmly. "You pay for it, you'll think you get a say in it."

"I'll allow you to select one outfit."

"If we're gonna be in small town Wisconsin -"

"Colorado."

"- for an entire weekend, you'll need more than one." He reached out and hauled the door open. "And this is a long term investment. I'm thinking at least six."

"Two," she bargained.

"Eight."

"Three, tops."

"Now it's ten."

She frowned. "You don't know how to negotiate, do you?"

"Negotiation is for losers. When I want something, I get it." He leaned on his good leg and tapped the back of her calves with the end of his crutch. "Chop, chop, woman, clock's ticking. We'll figure out a way you can repay me later. And for the record; I'm open to offers."

A glare of recrimination was tossed his way as she stepped through the door. But the second she was inside, he saw her shoulders relax like she'd inwardly sighed with contentment at the hushed, elegant ambiance of the store. 

Women and shopping. He would never get why they enjoyed it so much. Guy needed something to wear, he walked in, bought it and left. He didn't view it as a religious experience.

She ran reverent fingertips over a nearby jacket.

"No," he said flatly. "Nothing with that many buttons. Takes too long to get off."