All-American Princess - Maggie Dallen Page 0,51

was an old-fashioned style—from the fifties or sixties, maybe. Sleeveless and silky, the dress covered me all the way up to my neck and was fitted all the way down to my waist. It flared out after that and fell to my knees.

It was, without a doubt, the most prudish dress I’d worn since puberty hit and I’d gotten curves.

“I like your hair like that,” Tess said.

I wrinkled my nose and glanced in the mirror at the simple updo. I’d figured if my dress was old-fashioned, might as well go all the way. Retro-chic or whatever.

Tess shifted on the couch. “So, what’s with this?” she asked, gesturing to my getup. “Is this for Brandon?”

I didn’t respond, but some of my guilt must have shown. Tess sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

I met her gaze evenly. “There’s nothing more I can do to convince him.”

She arched a brow and looked frighteningly like our father for one second. “Nothing?”

I shifted in my peep-toe heels. Of course there was something. There was always something. I knew one of his secrets and knowledge was power.

Knowledge could be used as leverage.

She leveled me with another knowing look, but this time I met it was a glare. “Nothing I could live with.”

She softened a bit and gave me a little nod. I took that to be understanding.

“So, what’s with all this then?” She waved a hand over my outfit.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Fitting in?”

She arched her brows. “Only three weeks too late.”

I scoffed. “Please. We both know Brandon wasn’t about to be wooed by the way I look.”

Her lips quirked up at the side. “When did you figure it out?”

I narrowed my eyes. “When did you?” Tess barely left her house and had yet to even meet Brandon MacMillan. “Wait, don’t tell me. You have your sources.”

She shrugged. “Daddy has his sources.”

“Right, right,” I muttered. “Same difference.”

She stiffened a bit and looked away. And here we were, back to being on opposite sides of the great divide named Daddy.

She crossed her arms and tilted her chin toward the outfit. “So, if this isn’t for Brandon, who’s it for?” She arched her brows. “Jack?”

I didn’t answer, and she sighed. “Delilah.”

“Theresa.” I drew her full name out just like she’d done. Not my most mature moment, but it worked.

She dropped the maternal routine. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

I didn’t. I honestly had no idea. I’d seen Jack nearly every day since that scene in my bedroom last week. Not much had changed between us, honestly. Our little chats in the hall were still laced with teasing and snarky comebacks. But the undercurrent of desire was always there, just under the surface. And then, there were these… moments. Moments when he’d do something unforgivably sweet. Like carry my books.

God, I couldn’t even handle how clichéd that was.

Or how cute.

Then there was the way he came to my rescue in biology when no one wanted to be paired up with me for a lab. I would’ve been totally fine dissecting the frog on my own, obviously, but it had still been rather… sweet.

Tess’s groan dragged me out of my reverie. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“That look,” she said. “I know that look.”

I glanced over at the hall mirror and blinked. What the hell was that?

Tess might’ve recognized the look, but I did not. I frowned at myself. Was that how I looked when I liked somebody?

Gross.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Tess said.

I aimed my frown in her direction. “Jack won’t hurt me.” The absolute certainty in my voice clearly shocked Tess.

Almost as much as it shocked me.

“I wasn’t talking about Jack,” she said.

“Daddy.”

She widened her eyes. “Of course Daddy.”

I shifted uncomfortably as my gut twisted with apprehension. She had a point—one which I’d been trying not to think about for days now.

“Brandon doesn’t want to leave. This is his home.”

“But it’s not yours,” Tess said.

“What if it could be?”

She stared at me in surprise, and I couldn’t blame her. I was scaring the crap out of myself over here with these new ideas. These weirdly compelling thoughts of what might be. I’d never been much of an optimist, but then again, I’d never met a guy like Jack before.

“Are you serious?” Tess asked.

I opened my mouth to say no, of course not. Lila Devereaux, a Pinedale townie? I didn’t think so. But instead I found myself arguing the point. “Why not? I mean, think about it. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to be living