Blame It On Texas

“For the record, I think you’re an idiot.”

Lewis shrugged. “No argument there.”

She snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Why did you even hire me if you didn’t believe in what I do?”

He edged closer. “That’s complicated.”

She glared at him, her breasts rising and falling with every infuriated breath she took. “I’m still listening.”

Lewis continued. “I’ve been hearing for a long time from everyone in my family just how bad my taste in clothes is.”

Lexie’s gaze swept over his orange, brown and white-striped bellbottom pants, brown Nehru jacket and scuffed leather boots. “No kidding,” she said curtly.

“So I know I need help, but I’m also a guy, Lexie.” He waited until she angled her chin up at him before continuing. “And the fact is real men don’t need any help picking out their clothes or deciding how to get their hair cut or whatever. Real men do just fine on their own.”

Without warning, Lexie began to laugh.

He scowled. “It’s not that funny.”

“Yes,” she countered, refusing to let him take himself too seriously, “it is.”

“All right.” Lewis rubbed his jaw ruefully. “Maybe it is. All I know is that I need help in the wardrobe department. I just don’t want to need help. I want to be as skilled at picking out the right clothes as I am at designing a software game, and I’m just not.”

“I get that.” She glided nearer, a mixture of interest and compassion filling her turquoise eyes. “I don’t get how you got stuck in the Eighties.” She looked him over again. “Where do you even find those clothes?”

Somehow, Lewis managed not to look too embarrassed. “Vintage clothing shops, near Stanford University. I’ve got a standing account at a couple of places and they just send me things in my size every three months.”

“And charge you an arm and a leg to boot, I bet.”

Once again, she’d hit the nail on the head. “Clothes like this aren’t that easy to find.”

Lexie sighed. “I can only imagine.”

“It’s a look that worked well for me for the past ten years. As long as I was wearing vintage, I was a trendsetter. The clothes just enhanced my rep as an eccentric genius.”

“So why change?”

“Because despite all my business success, I’m starting to feel like a geek again.”

“But at the same time you’re afraid to change.”

“What if the clothes I select make me the kind of joke I was in high school?” His jaw tightened. “Or don’t you remember?” he asked.

She reached over and gently touched his arm. “Unfortunately, I do. The polyester pants, the bowling shirts with your name on the chest and a lightning bolt on the back.” She withdrew her hand and shook her head.

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Lewis shrugged and settled on one of the sofas in the center of the dress salon. “Einstein probably didn’t know how to dress, either.”

Lexie plopped down beside him. She stretched out her long, black-suede-clad legs. “At least you put yourself in good company.”

Lewis studied the toes of her black leather boots. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Lexie said, favoring him with a sexy half smile that made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her again, “I do.”

Silence fell between them, more companionable this time. “I still want to hire you.”

Lexie bounded to her feet. “Even though it embarrasses the hell out of you.”

Lewis stood and moved close enough to drink in the sweet, clean fragrance of her skin and hair. “I’ll get over it,” he vowed.

To his chagrin, she looked unconvinced.

“Please, Lexie, you’re the only one I trust to help me.”

She stared up at him thoughtfully. “If I agree to do this—and it’s still a big if, Lewis McCabe—then you have to promise me you won’t back out on me, that you’ll be honest and forthright with me every step of the way and, most important of all, you’ll let everyone in town know that you have hired me to give you a new look and aren’t the least bit embarrassed about that.”

Damn, she drove a hard bargain. Lewis rubbed at the tense muscles in the back of his neck. “I respect what you do for a living, Lexie. And I respect the heck out of you. So you’ve got yourself a deal.”