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"I can't believe I let you talk me into this,” Veronica said, shaking her head as she walked into the store. She didn't know what JD was thinking, either, as this had to be one of the most ridiculous, overpriced tourist money grabs on the strip. They could have taken two minutes to talk to Enid and get the location of a shop a local would go to instead of something like this. “It's crazy. You're planning on using yourself as bait, and you want me to help you do it?”
“You already agreed,” JD said, ushering her toward the back of the shop. Had he been here before? She thought he hated Vegas. “This looks promising.”
Veronica eyed the rack of dresses and stopped short. “You've got to be kidding me. That's not something I would have worn when we were dating. It's too... too... there's nothing there.”
“That's the point, actually,” he gave her a thin smile. “You need something revealing and flashy. You're going to be the eye candy.”
She glared at him. “No. Absolutely not. You are not going to get me to believe that dressing up as a cheap hooker is necessary.”
“Sweetie,” the sales associate said, looking her over with thinly veiled contempt, sneering down her nose. “Nothing here is cheap, trust me on that.”
Veronica glared at her. She was not buying anything from this place, and even if she did, it would have to have a lot more fabric on it.
“Relax, Ronnie,” JD said, touching her shoulder. “We're not spending your money. This young lady here is going to help you with the dressing room, and you are going to find a very nice, eye-catching dress for yourself. It won't be hard, just nothing from those two racks.”
“I am not going to—wait, where are you going?”
“You think you're the only one who's dressing the part?” he asked, smiling at her. He gave her cheek a quick pat. “You find your dress. I'll be back in my suit.”
“I am not dressing like a hooker.”
JD reached behind her, taking a dress off the rack and holding it out to her. “Not to bring up bad memories or anything, but blue is your color.”
She looked down at the slip of nothing and shook her head. “JD, I swear, I will kill you myself.”
He looked at the dress and back at her. “I seem to remember you having very nice legs, and I would not object to seeing them again. Or your back. Or... well, probably best not to discuss the rest of the things I'd like to see.”
“You are such an ass—”
He put a finger over her lips. “Language in front of the children. Just find a dress. I need a suit.”
She yanked his hand down. “And if this turns out to be a ploy so you can go off on your own and get yourself killed—”
“I am going to buy the nicest suit I can get off the rack. If you're not done finding a dress by the time I'm done getting my stuff...” He shrugged, giving her a smirk and walking away.
She balled her fist. She really would kill him before this was over, which was unfortunate, because she was only doing this to keep him alive.
“He's not wrong about the blue,” the sales associate said. “It might actually look good on you.”
Veronica glared at her. “Where the hell is the dressing room?”
“Veronica?”
“Just a second,” she called, still fighting with the zipper on the latest dress. She'd only tried the one of JD's to say she had, and the rest of them were ones she'd picked as quickly as she could off other racks on the trip to the dressing room. She didn't care for any of the ones she'd chosen, but at least they had a bit more to them than the ones he'd chosen.
This one wasn't all bad, she supposed. It was longer than the others, with a side slit that made it easier to move in, and while the back was low, the front wasn't so open she felt like everyone could see everything, and if she put a coat over it, she'd actually feel like she was wearing clothes.
“I have something for you,” JD said, and she sighed, telling herself she was not going to get this one anyway so it didn't matter if it didn't zip.
He, on the other hand, might pull another disappearing act, put himself out there as bait, and be dead by the time she got this thing right, so to hell with it.
She opened the door to the dressing room, holding the zipper as she peered out to find him. “JD?”
“Present,” he said, holding out a pair of designer heels. She looked at him and swore, profusely.
He'd said he was getting an off the rack suit. He hadn't mentioned it would be a three piece suit that fit him perfectly, in a very flattering black with a burgundy tie that matched the handkerchief in his pocket and the vest. She'd liked him in a trench coat with a baggy shirt and jeans, but he cleaned up nice, making her wish they'd actually had a chance to do the prom thing.
Or that Enid hadn't lied about the wedding.
No, damn it, no. JD was off-limits. They were not like that anymore, and even if they were, at best it would be a sex thing, random hookups that they regretted when they were sober.
“I know you're going to say they're not your style, but as you've gone a bit more... conservative than the part I keep telling you you're playing, you need to bend on the shoes. You don't have to wear them for long, just long enough to lose some money in a flashy way and—”
“Tell me that suit is not the one you just walked over and bought. That is so not off the rack.”
He smiled. “I take it this meets your approval?”
Her teenage self would have dragged him back into the dressing room and had her way with him, forgetting all about sadistic murderers who had hidden themselves as corrupt politicians and everything else going wrong in their respective lives.
Her adult self was apparently having issues with that as well.
“Um, it's fine.”
He frowned. “Why are you—do you need help with that zipper?”
“Uh, no as I'm not going to wear it, so—”
He reached around her and pulled the zipper up in one smooth motion, leaving her stunned and way too close to him because he hadn't backed off afterward. She didn't know how he'd managed that. She'd been fighting the damned thing since she got it on, but a single attempt from him—one handed, no less—and it worked.
“There. And I suppose it'll do, though you probably need some kind of... shawl thing to drape over your arms and draw attention to your back.”
“What?”
“The part, Ronnie,” JD said. “This is all for a very specific look you need to have, which is why I picked out the shoes for you and we're not going to argue about them because they're necessary and I owe you a new pair anyway—”
“Stop,” Veronica said, though really she should think about him puking on her feet a few hours ago because it would kill whatever the hell mood this was—also his fault because he'd done that thing on the sidewalk outside Enid's.
“Something wrong?” he asked. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
“Everything.”
“Hmm.”
“I'll be taller than you if I put those on.”
He snorted. “You wish. Come on, Veronica, what's wrong?”
“This,” she said, putting her arm around his neck and drawing him in for a long kiss, dredging up all those old feelings, the intensity of their first meeting and first time, the way she would have done anything for him before she realized just how damaged he really was.
“Nothing,” Veronica said, kicking off her flats. She took the heels from him and leaned against him as she put them on, not at all surprised to find they fit. “Let's just go. The sooner we gamble your money, the sooner we put a bulls-eye on you, and the sooner we catch a killer. In theory. Hopefully without you dying in the process.”
“Would you miss me?”
“Don't ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not. You're the one that warned me to stay away from you, remember?”
“Excellent point,” he said, taking a step back. She flinched at the loss of contact, shivering and looking around for a shawl or sweater or something as she cursed herself and her eternal stupidity when it came to Jason Dean.