I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,313

had no idea what I’d say. This was why the rules of casual sex should be established before anyone got naked. But she’d been the one to talk about Vegas. Perhaps we didn’t need to have an awkward follow-up conversation to reestablish what had already been said. I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and tried to avoid eye contact with the sales assistants.

“What do you think?” Amanda asked, stepping out of a dressing room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, recoiling in shock. Shopping was not my favorite activity to do—Pandora usually bought Amanda’s clothes—but I was going to have to be involved in every shopping trip from now to eternity if she thought she was going to wear that.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Dad, don’t swear.”

Don’t swear? She was lucky I didn’t kill someone. Someone like the designer of the dress she had on. “Take that off, right now. You’re fourteen not twenty-five.” It showed way too much skin—there seemed to be nothing holding it up and it was about three feet too short. It was as if she was wearing a towel.

“I’m not a child.”

I didn’t need a reminder she was growing up far too fast. “Yes, you are. That’s what fourteen is. And a child doesn’t get to wear dresses that don’t have arms.”

“It’s called strapless.”

“I don’t care what it’s called—it barely covers your butt. You’re not wearing it.” It seemed like yesterday that she’d refused to wear anything but a tutu. That particular obsession had lasted three months. She used to sleep in the thing. I’d laughed when Pandora had asked me to try to coax her out of it. I’d loved it. She’d looked adorable and it made her so happy—what more could I wish for? A tutu would be good right about now. Amanda glared at me. “I mean it, go change.”

“I don’t work for you. You can’t just order me around.”

I stared right back, raising my eyebrows. There was no way I was backing down on this. “If you want to go to the dance, you’ll go back in there and change.” I nodded toward the curtain behind her. “I’ll be out here trying to find something appropriate for you to wear.”

“Thanks, Coco Chanel.”

I wanted to laugh, but she needed to understand that under no circumstances would she be wearing something made for a twenty-five-year-old trying to get laid. Apart from anything else, Pandora would cut off my balls. I was going to have to get proactive.

“Excuse me,” I said to the shop assistant. “Can you show me some age-appropriate dresses for my fourteen-year-old daughter?” I’d left Amanda to pick her own outfit. That had been a mistake. I could have headed off this problem before she’d changed into anything.

“Certainly, sir,” the tall, blonde woman said. “It’s so nice to see a father taking his daughter shopping.” She smiled as if she wanted me to respond, but I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. I wanted to find a dress and take Amanda to Serendipity, where we could catch up over ice-cream sundaes and forget she was growing up.

“What about this?” The assistant held up a very short, baby-blue dress.

“Something longer,” I said.

“Dad,” Amanda called. I turned to see her in a skin-tight dress that looked like it was made of strips of horizontal material sewn together.

I strode toward her. “Get that off. Right now.”

“It has sleeves,” she said, holding out her arms.

True, but it left nothing to the imagination, clinging to her teenage body and barely covering her bottom. There was no way she was going out in public in that.

“Get it off,” I snapped.

She let out a grunt of frustration and stomped back into the changing room.

“This,” the assistant said, holding up a pink-lace dress, “is a very popular dress this season.”

It looked as though it would hit the floor when Amanda tried it on, so that was a plus. It also had long sleeves. I stepped closer. “Is that see-through?” I asked, staring at the dress. For a second, I imagined Harper in the dress. The color would suit her.

“It’s sheer, but the lace covers all the important bits, so it looks more revealing than it is,” the assistant said, dissolving my thoughts of Harper.

What was the matter with people? “My daughter is fourteen. She doesn’t do revealing, not even fake revealing.” I turned toward the dressing room. “Amanda,” I shouted. “Get dressed. We’re going somewhere else.” Clearly this store was in the market to dress up little girls