Some Like It Haute: A Humorous Fashion Mystery (Style & Error Book 4) by Diane Vallere Read Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Vallere
yard. Swat them, let them run a few steps away, then catch them and swat at them again. I saw what Logan’s game did to the chipmunks. I didn’t want that to happen to me.
Dante carried the plates to the kitchen and washed them. He transferred them to a drying rack that sat on his counter. “I can tell you’re wrestling with something,” he said. “Let me know when you want to talk.”
I bit my lip and stared at the coffee table. I still had too many questions I needed to work out.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said.
“Go crazy.”
When I was done, I spritzed last night’s dress with Dante’s cologne and put it back on. I dried my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail, and then capped it with a gray houndstooth fedora from the Justin Timberlake part of Dante’s closet.
When I returned to the living room, Dante was on the sofa inspecting a camera and a couple of lenses on the table in front of him. “Is that my hat?”
“It is.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.” I scooped up the keys, pulled on my black wool coat, and headed to the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some fresh air.” I paused by the door, not sure if he was going to tell me when to be back, or if I was going to tell him where I was headed. A few seconds passed, and I left.
I have never driven a sports car before in my life, and the concept of being handed the keys to a Corvette Stingray, no strings attached, was slightly beyond my grasp. I sat in the soft leather bucket seat and ran my hands over the steering wheel several times before starting the car. The engine roared to life the way the lion roars at the beginning and end of MGM movies. I undid the parking break, put the car in gear, and coasted down the driveway. I pulled onto Duryea Drive and followed the winding road until eventually I made it out to the streets of downtown Ribbon. Minutes later, I parked in front of Amanda Ries’ workroom.
What was I doing here? I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of was that Amanda did not want to see me or talk to me. After the way she’d dismissed me the night before the show, and after her reaction to me at the hospital, it had been clear that we weren’t destined to become the kind of friends who braid each other’s hair. But I’d been attacked because of my affiliation with her. Maybe nobody else was trying to find out who had assaulted me, but I wasn’t willing to let it go.
I got out of the car and locked the doors, then followed the sidewalk up to the front entrance. I paused in front of the white front door and tried on greetings and explanations as to why I was there. Much like bathing suit shopping after the holidays, none of them fit. Before I came up with the perfect salutation, the front door opened inward. Tiny stood in front of me, barely contained in the frame of the door.
“Don’t just stand there,” she said, “come on in. We’ve been expecting you since last night.”
7
I stepped backward and glanced at the sign mounted to the left of the front door. “ARS | Amanda Ries Studios,” it read. I tried to look around Tiny but was unsuccessful.
“What do you mean you’ve been expecting me? Nobody knew I was coming here.” I didn’t even know I was coming here. “Who is ‘we’?”
“Your reputation precedes you. Amanda knew you’d show up sooner or later.” She handed the door to me and headed inside. She turned around again. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She went into the next room. I unbuttoned my coat but left it on. The only time I’d been here before, Amanda hadn’t invited me inside. She’d met me at the front door with a rolling rack of garment bags filled with samples and closed the door behind me.
This time I was inside and more than a little curious. I couldn’t say what it was about Amanda that got me, unless I did a little soul searching and acknowledged a basal jealousy that left me feeling an unattractive shade of
Dante carried the plates to the kitchen and washed them. He transferred them to a drying rack that sat on his counter. “I can tell you’re wrestling with something,” he said. “Let me know when you want to talk.”
I bit my lip and stared at the coffee table. I still had too many questions I needed to work out.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said.
“Go crazy.”
When I was done, I spritzed last night’s dress with Dante’s cologne and put it back on. I dried my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail, and then capped it with a gray houndstooth fedora from the Justin Timberlake part of Dante’s closet.
When I returned to the living room, Dante was on the sofa inspecting a camera and a couple of lenses on the table in front of him. “Is that my hat?”
“It is.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.” I scooped up the keys, pulled on my black wool coat, and headed to the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need some fresh air.” I paused by the door, not sure if he was going to tell me when to be back, or if I was going to tell him where I was headed. A few seconds passed, and I left.
I have never driven a sports car before in my life, and the concept of being handed the keys to a Corvette Stingray, no strings attached, was slightly beyond my grasp. I sat in the soft leather bucket seat and ran my hands over the steering wheel several times before starting the car. The engine roared to life the way the lion roars at the beginning and end of MGM movies. I undid the parking break, put the car in gear, and coasted down the driveway. I pulled onto Duryea Drive and followed the winding road until eventually I made it out to the streets of downtown Ribbon. Minutes later, I parked in front of Amanda Ries’ workroom.
What was I doing here? I wasn’t sure. What I was sure of was that Amanda did not want to see me or talk to me. After the way she’d dismissed me the night before the show, and after her reaction to me at the hospital, it had been clear that we weren’t destined to become the kind of friends who braid each other’s hair. But I’d been attacked because of my affiliation with her. Maybe nobody else was trying to find out who had assaulted me, but I wasn’t willing to let it go.
I got out of the car and locked the doors, then followed the sidewalk up to the front entrance. I paused in front of the white front door and tried on greetings and explanations as to why I was there. Much like bathing suit shopping after the holidays, none of them fit. Before I came up with the perfect salutation, the front door opened inward. Tiny stood in front of me, barely contained in the frame of the door.
“Don’t just stand there,” she said, “come on in. We’ve been expecting you since last night.”
7
I stepped backward and glanced at the sign mounted to the left of the front door. “ARS | Amanda Ries Studios,” it read. I tried to look around Tiny but was unsuccessful.
“What do you mean you’ve been expecting me? Nobody knew I was coming here.” I didn’t even know I was coming here. “Who is ‘we’?”
“Your reputation precedes you. Amanda knew you’d show up sooner or later.” She handed the door to me and headed inside. She turned around again. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She went into the next room. I unbuttoned my coat but left it on. The only time I’d been here before, Amanda hadn’t invited me inside. She’d met me at the front door with a rolling rack of garment bags filled with samples and closed the door behind me.
This time I was inside and more than a little curious. I couldn’t say what it was about Amanda that got me, unless I did a little soul searching and acknowledged a basal jealousy that left me feeling an unattractive shade of
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