She's not flaunting it, not modeling, or twirling around to hide her embarrassment. She just stands there and allows me to look at her. I almost feel guilty as my eyes travel down her body and then stop at the bottom and make their way up again. Half of her long black hair is flowing over one shoulder, but the rest of it peeks out from behind her back like a cape. "Miss Walsh," I whisper, "you've wiped my mind of everything right now."

I walk up to her and she averts her eyes but when I get closer she fights hard to meet my gaze. "I'm glad you're here," I tell her honestly. I want to take her face in my hands and kiss her so bad, but I make myself behave. "I hope you understand that. I'm a flirt and I joke a lot but—" I lose my train of thought as she starts breathing a little harder, making her chest rise and fall under the very sheer pale blue fabric that barely covers her br**sts. "—but you stun me."

I finally find her face again and she's watching me closely, leaning in a little maybe—like she wants me to kiss her.

But then the moment passes and she turns away slowly. I watch her body move down the short hallway until she rounds the corner and starts talking again. "You're an excellent shopper, Ronin. I think I'll keep them all, but only if you take it out of my check." She comes back out a few minutes later dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans, holding the huge pile of clothes in her arms. On top is the sheer blue nightie.

"You're keeping the nightie?" is all I manage to say.

And then we both laugh because I am such a f**king pig.

"Yes, thank you for picking it out. I agree, it really makes my eyes look spectacular."

"Right," I breathe. "Your eyes."

"So you'll take this out of my check, right?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"No, I'm not taking the clothes out of your check. It's like the food, Rook. It comes with."

"Do you give all the girls free clothes?"

"No, but I would if they needed it."

"So I need it?"

"Don't you?" I see where this is going and a smarter guy would back off, but she's just being dumb.

"I don't really. I'm fine with the clothes I was wearing, it was you—"

"OK, whatever. I'll tell Elise to bill you for the clothes. Make you happy?"

She nods and I take the clothes from her arms and we walk across the terrace to her apartment. When we get inside I dump all her stuff on the bed and wait.

It's an awkward moment. Does she want me to leave? Stay? "Do you want to go get some lunch?"

"Um…"

"Before we train for tomorrow?" I stick that in to throw a wrench into her I'm-trying-to-get-rid-of-you plan, because I can see it coming.

"Train for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I told Elise I'd train you at the shampoo station before she got back, you know, so she could relax on her romantic weekend getaway with Antoine. It's their anniversary. Well, sorta. They're not married, but they still call their first date their anniversary."

I'm f**king babbling.

"I need to train on the shampoo station?" is all she comes back with.

"Yeah, you know—the whole hot and cold water thing, shampoo versus conditioner. Detangler…"

I'm dying here.

"If you say so, Ronin. But I'm going to take a shower so why don't I meet you at the shampoo station in an hour and we'll talk about food afterward?"

Chapter Sixteen - ROOK

Even though I should be thrilled at scoring a whole armful of designer clothes from the closet of Antoine Chaput's studio, I'm irritated as I wrestle with the stupid hand-held shower head thingy that won't let me relax and enjoy hot water at the same time. And Ronin. Train on the shampoo station. What kind of stupid way to spend a Sunday is that? I mean I get it, everything in my life is tentative right now, so I could do a lot worse than standing around listening to control-freak Ronin babble on about how to use the hot and cold water spigot.

I blow out a breath of air and rinse myself one last time and then give up on the shower being something fun. Next time I'll just take a bath, at least I can relax in a bath.

Who needs clean hair anyway?

Shampoo station training my ass.

I shake it off and go back into my room where all my new-to-me clothes are piled up on the bed. It is pretty cool that I got all this stuff though. I'll probably regret it when the bill comes, but that worry is for another day. Right now, I'm in underwear heaven. I fish out the prettiest panties I found and slip them on. They are black with little pink ribbons threaded through the butt and have tiny pink bows that accentuate each of my hipbones.

The jeans I wore out of the dressing room were perfect so I put those back on, and then wrangle my girls into the matching black and pink bra and add a black tank top to the ensemble. I look in the mirror. My hair is a bit of a mess and might even still have soap in it due to lack of proper rinsing, plus I have no make-up on to boot. But even so, this is the prettiest I've looked in years. Maybe ever.

I brush my teeth and then gloss up my lips with some brand new peach-tasting stuff I found in the make-up drawer. Imagine—three days of proper care and feeding can make up for four years of neglect and punishment.

It's amazing how little we humans really need to thrive and it blows my mind that a matching bra and panty set, coupled with the perfect pair of jeans, can lift my spirits up so high, it leaves me dizzy.