Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 by Kelley St. John Read Free Book Online Page A

Shannon’s arm to tickle Clarise’s wrist. Was there anything about this tiny person that didn’t scream fun? She headed directly for a rack of seminormal colors, not the fluorescent hues out front, but vivid just the same. “It’s a new line the owner is trying out, based on my recommendation. I absolutely love this designer’s work. The problem is, most of our customers can’t wear them,” Shannon said.
    Excitement raced through Clarise’s veins. Finally, something the two of them could clearly connect on—discussing a new clothing line. Granted, it wasn’t like any line Clarise had viewed before, but it did have a fun and flirty manifestation that begged to be touched—and worn. “Why can’t your customers wear them?” she asked, fingering a lime green sweater dress. The soft texture caressed her palm, made her itch to try it on, but she didn’t dare. Clarise never tried on clothing in department stores, even at Eubanks. That was something she did in private, not in a dressing room where an attendant popped her head in and asked if she was “doing okay.” How could anyone “do okay” if there was always the potential for another human to see you naked? In fact, in her own department, she made sure never to invade a Eubanks customer’s privacy.
    “The figures. They just don’t have them,” Shannon explained.
    “Figures?” Clarise moved her attention to a black leather miniskirt.
    “Curves. These babies are made for curvy women.” She waved her fingertips across several colorful sleeves on the rack. “I can’t wear them, and I’d love to, but not everyone is blessed like you,” she continued.
    “Blessed?” Clarise blinked. She jerked her head around in a full surveillance move. Was Granny Gert hiding in the store, feeding Shannon lines of bull to convince her granddaughter the Robinson Treasures were the jewels she’d claimed?
    “Of course. I can’t wait to see this on you. Oh man, those guys in Tampa are gonna absolutely die.” She held the green dress against Clarise and tilted her head to the side. “Really brings out the natural highlights in your hair. And your eyes, oh yeah, this shade complements mocha perfectly.”
    Mocha?
Clarise classified them as brown, same color as her hair. Natural highlights? Talk about willing to go the distance for a sale.
    “I could never wear that,” Clarise said, shaking her head for emphasis.
Uh-uh. No way.
    “Sure you can. Matter of fact, I haven’t had another soul in here who could, except you. You’ve simply gotta try it on.”
    “I don’t try things on,” Clarise explained. “I take them home, then if they don’t work, which they usually don’t, I bring them back.”
    “You’re not going to let me see how good it looks?” Shannon’s green eyes did a little pop thing, where the iris seemed to increase in size and made her look like Yoda.
    Do or do not. There is no try.
    Dang, talk about pressure, but new best friend or not, Shannon, and Yoda, were going beyond Clarise’s limits. And unless the force was with this pixie—as in the force to physically haul Clarise into a dressing room and squeeze her unwilling body into these scraps of fabric—this request wouldn’t be granted. “Sorry, but nope. Never. No way. No how.”
    Shannon laughed so hard she snorted. Her abs tightened with the action, showcasing an impressive six-pack and taking her right out of Yoda mode.
    “Okay. But once you get a good view of your body in this dress, you’ll change your mind.”
    “Don’t count on it, and I’m not certain I’m going to buy it. Are you sure there’s enough fabric here to cover all this?” She pointed down, but didn’t bother looking at what she saw in the mirror every day. “What’s the largest size?”
    “You don’t want the biggest one; that’d be huge. Tell you what, if you insist on waiting until you go home to try it on, I’ll measure you so we get the right size from the get-go.”
    “Measure me?” Clarise