* * *
By 4.45p.m. on Sunday I’d tried on twelve dresses. Being number one was an honor, but wearing gold all the time was grating on me. It was a country dance; all my dresses were very Tealé hip and totally over-the-top.
“Liam just arrived,” Mama announced, stepping into my room and eyeing the pile of discarded garments on the four-poster bed. My room was decorated in traditional country style with a floral patchwork quilt, wrought-iron full-body mirror and floor-length lacy curtains.
“I don’t know what to wear.” I scowled, swishing the skirt of my 50s-style pale gold dress.
“When I was dating, my rule of thumb was to wear the dress I was in when my date arrived,” Mama replied, smiling.
I swished the skirt again, examining my reflection in the mirror. It was the kind of dress that would easily make a front cover of a tabloid: understated and classy. “This is it then,” I acquiesced, moving toward the door where Mama stood.
“You look lovely,” Mama complimented. “You’re lucky fashion sense is hereditary.”
“Yeah, Papa’s a pretty snazzy dresser,” I teased.
“Hey,” she laughed. Mama wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze, before walking me down stairs to the living room.
Papa was sitting on the lounge with a case of guns open on the coffee table, talking to Liam.
“You look beautiful,” Papa greeted, smiling. “I was just showing Liam my gun collection.” Tamsin was sniggering in the armchair opposite the men. I rolled my eyes, used to my father’s need to educate my date about being the alpha male in my life. “Did you know that with this rifle, I hit a rabbit one hundred meters away?”
Liam swallowed hard. “That’s impressive. You’ll have to show me one day.”
Papa smiled, respect in his eyes. When he’d done the same spiel with other dates they’d often downplayed his skill or been intimidated by his gun collection. Liam offered a listening ear and was a willing admirer of Papa’s prowess, which was commendable.
“You could shoot a few rounds now,” Tamsin offered, ever the stirrer.
“Next time,” Papa replied, “You’ll have to get going if you want to make it to the dance by seven. I expect you back by midnight, and a phone call as soon as possible if you’ll be late.”
“We won’t be late, sir,” Liam assured. “Thanks for showing me your collection.”
“Any time.” Papa smiled, patting Liam on the back.
Tamsin rushed to the door to see us out to the car while Mama and Papa stood on the porch.
Liam opened the SUV door for me to get in, and waved to my parents as he tracked around to the driver’s side.
Tamsin stood beside my window and shoved a backpack into my arms.
“What’s this?” I asked, examining the violet dress in the canvas bag.
“You know how Mama and Papa are always talking about keeping your public image intact? I thought this might help,” Tamsin conspired.
“You still haven’t explained what it is?” I replied, smiling. Tamsin’s energy was contagious.
“It’s a six hundreds dress, so you’ll blend in being Liam’s date and no one will give you a second glance. You’ll be incognito. I even put a wig in there,” she said, with a satisfied nod.
Liam was sitting in the driver’s seat, observing our exchange. “It is genius,” he agreed.
“You’re growing on me, Liam.” Tamsin winked.
“What about the law regarding wearing clothes outside your rank?” I asked, dubious. “Not to mention, it’s pretty insulting to Liam for me to dress down.”
“I’m cool with it,” Liam replied, shrugging. “I know how much work you put into being number one, and this will be less pressure for both of us.”
“The law states you can’t dress up ranks,” Tamsin offered. “It doesn’t say anything about dressing lower than your rank. I checked.”
“I’ll think about it,” I replied, dropping the bag on the floor. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, stepping away from the car. “Bye.”
I waved to my family till they were out of sight, and enjoyed the warm breeze blowing through the car. All week I’d been anxious to be alone with Liam, and now that we had a two-hour road trip ahead of us I was picking at my cuticles and fidgeting.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier, but you’re stunning,” Liam complimented, glancing at me.
“Thanks.” I smoothed my skirt. “You don’t clean up too bad yourself.”
“I did have a shower,” he teased.
“Being clean suits you.” Liam laughed, running his fingers through his hair.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, expertly navigating the dirt road as it turned to bitumen. Fields in the process of harvest stretched out all around us. The closest town was thirty minutes north.
“I’m okay,” I replied, still full from the bag of licorice bullets Tamsin and I had shared earlier.
“How was the rest of your week?” he asked, his eyes engaging mine before returning to the road.
I let my hand surf the warm summer air so I wouldn’t fidget. “It was fine,” I replied.
“I noticed you were picking corn.” He smirked.
“Have you been Internet stalking me?” I asked, in mock horror.
“Will you jump from a moving vehicle if I say ‘yes’?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I deliberated, playfully. “Why? Did you do it?”
“I wanted to make sure I took you somewhere you’d like,” he admitted. “There’s not heaps of variety for dinner and I wanted to make sure I got food you’d enjoy.”
“That’s creepy . . .” I baited. “. . . and sweet. I have one unrestricted meal a week, so burgers would be excellent, and if there’s anything you want to know about me, ask. Most of the stuff you find about me online has been spun, by me, or my parents, or all of us. My rank is kind of a family business.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Did you Google me?”
I blushed. “No.”
“Ouch.” He laughed. “I wasn’t interesting enough for you?”
“No,” I clarified. “I wanted to, but because of your parents’ accident I figured there would be a whole lot of stuff about it in the local news. I didn’t want the baggage of knowing stuff that you hadn’t told me. I figured this way you have a clean slate. I’ll know about you only what you want me to know.”
“Now I feel really bad,” he confessed.
“No need to feel bad,” I assured him. “I’m really contemplating putting on that violet dress, and if I do, I figure that’s worse than reading my social media.”
“I think you should,” he challenged. “For one night you can just be a pleb like me, instead of being extraordinary. It’ll give you empathy for the little people.”
“You are not a pleb,” I defended. “I’m just an ordinary girl with a great P.R. team.”
He shook his head. “You will never be ordinary,” he disagreed.
“Let’s see if you still think that at the end of the night,” I said, playfully.
He smiled, making goose bumps rise on my arms. “I have no doubt we’ll be BFF’s for life,” he teased. I hoped he meant it.
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