Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4), Sarah Brooks [urban books to read .txt] 📗

“Of course!”

Twenty minutes later we were parked outside of the new clothes store called Amalie’s.

“I never even knew this was here. How long has it been open?” I asked as we got out of the car.

Whitney lifted her eyebrows and answered me in the blandest of bland voices. “About a year.”

“Wow, I need to get out more,” I muttered.

Whitney patted my back. “Yes, my friend, you do. Now come on.”

The shop was a whirlwind of shirts and dresses. It seemed to cater to everyone. There was a stack of designer jeans next to a rack of plaid, button-up work shirts. It was a strange mish-mash of styles and colors.

“What do you think of this?” Whitney held up what appeared to be a tight-fitting graphic t-shirt with a red and green dragon printed on the shoulder and draping down the back.

I scrunched up my nose. “Web isn’t a twenty-year-old fuckboy. Come on now.”

Whitney sighed. “You’re right. You’d think since I’ve been married to the guy for over a year I’d have more of a clue what to get him. I just want to buy him something that isn’t a black t-shirt.”

“How about this?” I asked, holding up a bright yellow polo that I knew he’d hate at first sight.

Whitney gave me a look that let me know I wasn’t being the help she needed me to be, so I begrudgingly put it back.

We kept browsing, putting things in a ‘maybe’ pile to be decided on at the end.

The store was pretty busy. A woman was shopping nearby, and I frequently had to move out the way to avoid smacking her with the shirts Whitney loaded me up with.

“Sorry,” I told the stranger when I accidentally smacked her with a hanger.

The woman laughed. “Looks like you girls are on a mission. I’ll try to stay out of the way.”

“So, I hear things were a bit tense with you and Mr. Robert Jenkins at Meg’s this past weekend.” Whitney handed me two more shirts to put on the pile.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Did Meg tell you that? Because she wasn’t even there. She was upstairs with Tyler.” I felt myself becoming instantly defensive. I didn’t like people talking about my personal life behind my back. Not even my best friends.

“Actually, Adam mentioned it. You know what gossip he can be,” Whitney said. “He was very confused by it considering he has no idea what was going on with the two of you.”

“Dear lord, Whit, for the hundredth time—”

“Nothing was going on, blah, blah, blah. If you think any of us believe that for a second, you’re deluding yourself,” Whitney interrupted.

I moved out of the nice lady’s way again. I glanced her way, not a big fan of talking about personal stuff in public, but she seemed oblivious.

“Okay, so I liked him. A lot. And we were kinda, sorta seeing each other,” I admitted.

“Finally!” Whitney raised her hands to the sky. “Acknowledgement!”

I dropped the clothes on the growing pile and glowered at her. “Yes fine. I thought we might be starting to date, but then he had to go and be all aloof and shady and I had had enough evasive bullshit with Mac. I’m not ready to sign up for more.”

“Robert is not Mac, Skylar. I don’t think you’re being fair to him. He’s a really good guy,” Whitney scolded. “Just because the guy didn’t give you his life story right away doesn’t mean you should ice him out. I don’t think that’s too cool of you.”

Her censure stung. “It wasn’t like that, Whitney. It’s just, I started really opening up to him because he seemed into me. And when I would ask him questions, he never answered them. I just don’t know if I have it in me to let someone in my life who could hurt me. I’ve been down that road and it’s not fun.”

Whitney put her arm around my shoulders. “He likes you, Sky. Everyone can see the way he looks at you. If you never give someone a chance, how will you ever know if it’s right?”

“I’m sorry to be nosy but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

Whitney and I looked up in surprise at the older woman who had been shopping next to us. “Excuse me?” I asked, taken aback.

The woman was beautiful in that timeless way where her age could be anywhere between forty and sixty. She had long blonde hair without a streak of grey—she had to dye it— and a body that made me envious. So why was this gorgeous stranger jumping into our conversation?

“I’m sorry, I probably should mind my own business, but ladies need to stick together and when I hear a pretty young thing like yourself talking about an obvious asshole, we older gals need to step in.” She gave me a sympathetic smile.

“She never said he was an asshole,” Whitney argued, frowning.

“No, of course not. You seem like such a nice woman,” she went on, looking at me. “It’s just that I heard you talking about a man and whether you should give things a go. In my experience, trust your instincts, sweety. It’s when we don’t that we get into trouble.”

“But what if my instincts are wrong?” I found myself asking her. I didn’t know why I found myself opening up to this stranger. But something was inviting about her face that made me want to sit down and drink coffee with her and tell her all my problems.

The woman put a hand on my arm. I noticed offhandedly the number of rings she wore. Her hand was literally weighed down with diamonds. And by the way she dressed she clearly had money.

“Women are too often made to feel like we should ignore what our gut tells us. We push aside our best interests when a handsome face comes along. We have to learn to be smarter than that. Forget about this guy. If you think he could hurt you, then don’t risk