Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(40)

Rowan yawned through a late breakfast, bleary eyed but adorable and dressed for a day of shopping. She had called at half past ten to wake Savannah from the deepest sleep she could remember in ages. By noon, the two of them were walking beneath the curved glass roof of the Houston Galleria. Rowan fell in love with a pair of Alexander McQueen sandals at Nordstrom that Savannah tried diligently to talk her out of.

“You know your feet are going to swell and you aren’t going to be able to wear them,” she warned as Rowan admired them in the mirror and the saleslady gave Savannah the evil eye as she no doubt contemplated a lost commission.

“They won’t swell forever, silly.”

“Mom always said her foot was a full size bigger after she had Tommy.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Well . . . shit. Sorry,” she quickly added to the lady helping her, her hand going to her mouth. “I think I’ll take them anyway, though. I simply must have a souvenir from this trip.”

The saleslady gave a sniff of triumph in Savannah’s direction, and with Rowan’s mind made up, Savannah fell silent. The girl had money to burn; she simply feared she was burning through it too fast. Not that Rowan necessarily had anything to worry about—the Dugas clan would collapse in shame if she ever had to work a day in her life, apparently. In a few years, Savannah’s own trust fund would kick in, and maybe then she could entertain the notion of spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of shoes she might not be able to wear in a few months. But right now she was financially comfortable and independent mainly because she was frugal.

Frugal or not, though, she did need a hot dress for tonight. And Rowan had an eye like a hawk for hot dresses.

“What are we looking for?” Rowan asked later in Neiman Marcus, coming up behind Savannah when she thought she’d lost her at the Kate Spade handbags for a few minutes.

Startled and a little guilty, she replaced the bright pink sleeveless A-line she’d been examining and turned away. “Oh, nothing.”

“What’s wrong? That would look great on you, you know. With your dark hair and mile-long legs? Please. You should try it on.”

She did like it. Bright colors had never really been her thing, but it was sexy and flirty, and since she had no clue where Mike was planning to take her tonight, she didn’t want to go overboard. Rowan snatched it back off the rack and thrust it at her. “I insist. Put it on. I want to hate you just a little bit more.”

“Shut up,” Savannah scoffed, taking it and holding it up to her body. Yes, it would definitely show a lot of leg. Mike would like that. Hell, she hadn’t brought any decent shoes to wear with it. Too bad I can’t borrow Rowan’s new sandals, she thought with a smirk. The two of them were within half a shoe size of each other and frequently traded when possible, but . . . yeah. That would be too much.

“I think we should get facials too. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

All at once, at one innocent suggestion, her mind overrode her sex organs and it occurred to her what a horrible person—sister, friend, family member—she was being. Rowan didn’t deserve this. But she was doing well; it was a good day. How could Savannah ruin it for her by telling her where she was going tonight?

Would it ruin it? Maybe Rowan had garnered a modicum of goodwill toward Mike after he’d made this trip possible for her. Miracles happened, right?

While she was wondering, Rowan propelled her toward the fitting rooms and Savannah mechanically undressed and slipped into the slinky pink number, surveying her reflection critically. As usual, the girl had been right—it showed the perfect amount of leg and heightened a glow she hadn’t realized she possessed. Of course, Michael might have put that glow there last night. With every movement, she could still feel him inside her, a fullness just on the pleasure side of pain.

Oh, God. Leaning her forehead against the mirror, she sucked in a series of calming breaths and tried to get a grip on her racing thoughts.

She’d never been a deceptive person. Never. Keeping secrets from the people closest to her simply wasn’t an option she’d ever had to consider, and in relationships it would’ve been a deal breaker. But then, she’d never had a secret like this, one that could hurt so many people. Rowan wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t—

A knock pounded on the door. “Are you all right in there? Does it not fit? You need a size down, right? Because I hate you.”

She jumped away from the mirror as Rowan’s voice filtered through, her mouth speaking out on its own. “I’m having dinner tonight with Mike Larson.”

Maybe it had been the ease of saying it without having to look Rowan in the face. Or maybe she’d lost her f*cking mind. But the reason didn’t matter. Silence, complete and absolute and terrible, met the announcement.

“Rowan?” Please, please, please . . .

“You don’t have to, you know. Don’t think you have to do something to thank him for this weekend on my behalf.”

What? “It isn’t like that at all. That isn’t what I’m doing. He’s taking me out, not the other way around.”

“It’s only that . . . that’s a dress I could see lying in a puddle on the floor come morning.”

God, she thought even less of him than Savannah had thought. “I promise, it isn’t about that.”