Into The Dragon's World - Brittany White Page 0,7
you kinda left that out.”
“Oops. My bad.” Jasmine laughed as she took in Casey’s outfit. “Girl, what are you wearing? Are those my workout clothes?”
Casey looked down at herself. She had foraged through Jasmine’s closet and dressed the way she always dressed: baggy sweatshirt, comfortable jeans, a pair of Chucks. She’d washed her face, pulled her hair back into a long braid, and called it a day.
“What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“C’mere.” Jasmine gestured for her to come to the window and pulled the curtain back. On the street below, Brady leaned against a black SUV. A man in a black suit sat behind the wheel. Brady looked markedly different than he had the night before. Wearing jeans and a white tee beneath a flannel button-up shirt, he looked even better than he had in his tailored suit. A quick little gasp escaped Casey’s lips.
“You see that man down there?” Jasmine let the curtain fall closed again. “You are going to be alone with that burning hot guy for most of the day. Is this how you want to look to him? Like a repressed librarian from 1983?”
“It’s not that bad,” Casey said as she looked down at herself. Her 32D breasts were only faint bumps beneath the baggy shirt. Her butt was non-existent in her comfy jeans. She thought of the women she had seen at the club the night before and realized that Jasmine was right.
“Honey, it’s bad. Super bad.” Jasmine put down her coffee and grabbed Casey by the hand, leading her back to the bedroom. “You need help.”
Ten minutes later, Casey emerged as a whole new person. Jasmine had dressed her in a pair of better-fitting jeans that accentuated her butt. Her top was a silky, long-sleeved blouse in a shade of blue that almost perfectly matched her eyes. Casey had refused to wear anything skin-tight or revealing, so the blouse was a fair compromise. It clung to her, but not in a way that made her feel totally exposed. The final touch was a little bit of mascara and lip gloss. Understated and classy.
“Why do you always wear your hair pulled back?” Jasmine untangled Casey’s braid and let the loose waves flow over her shoulders. “You look like you just walked out of a damn shampoo commercial. Show it off.”
Casey stood in front of the mirror, fighting the urge to grab a sweatshirt and cover up. She’d always felt self-conscious, so shrouding herself in oversized clothing had given her a shield to hide behind. To see herself like this...it felt strange.
“You look great,” Jasmine said and smiled. “Brady won’t believe it when he sees you.”
“Brady’s not interested in me.” Casey couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “No, he’s not interested. Besides, didn’t you say he’s a prince or something?”
Jasmine nodded. “Yeah. And?”
“And I’m not exactly the kind of girl you take home to meet the Queen.”
“Well, who’s saying you have to have a relationship with him?” Jasmine’s smile slanted. “Do a little hit-it-and-quit-it.”
“Jazz…” Casey shook her head. “No. The last guy I was with—”
“You mean the guy you were with four years ago?”
“Yeah...” Casey brushed away the unwelcome memories of her first serious relationship. Paul had been more than enough reason for her to give up on dating.
“I don’t want to rush anything.” Casey tugged at the silk blouse, pulling it away from her breasts. “Why is this so clingy?”
“Look out there at that man and tell me you don’t want to rush things.” Jasmine handed Casey an empty duffle bag. “Have fun today.”
“Oh, I won’t.” Casey smiled and kissed Jasmine on the cheek. Then it was off to a whole day alone with Brady Markonian. God help her.
Other than a few polite pleasantries, they rode to Casey’s apartment in silence. It turned out that both the SUV and the driver belonged to Brady. Casey tried to glance at Brady from the corner of her eye, but every time she looked at him, he was staring out his window, chin resting on his knuckles, seemingly oblivious to her presence.
“Do you not want to do this?” she finally asked.
“Huh?” He blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Do what?”
“Help me grab my stuff.” A wave of embarrassment washed over her. It had taken everything she had to even make herself ask him for help. It didn’t come easy to her. She’d rather be told “no” a million times than feel like she was an inconvenience or a chore for someone. Or worse: an