We walked across the street to a row of shops bordering the waterfront. Thorin stopped before one store window showcasing several cocktail dresses, all elegant, and all obviously beyond my price range. A dinner with strangers elegant enough to call for the use of these dresses meant Thorin planned to push me far outside my comfort zone.
“I’m really on more of a Target kind of budget,” I said.
Thorin made a show out of looking up and down the sidewalk. “Sorry, looks like they’re fresh out of Targets.”
Thorin held the door open for me, and I stepped into the store’s low-lit interior. The saleswoman fell over herself trying to get to us. She wasted no attention on me; her eyes were all for Thorin. How could I blame her? It would take more than scuffed boots and old jeans to conceal his innate regality. Thorin had pulled his hair into a half ponytail, emphasizing the exquisite lines of his face. He was beautiful… in the same way a six-hundred-pound feral tiger is beautiful.
“How can I help you?” the saleswoman purred.
“I doubt you can help me,” Thorin said in a cool voice. “I’m sure you have nothing in my size.”
The saleswoman laughed as if Thorin was the wittiest creature she’d ever met. I rolled my eyes and went to inspect a champagne-colored gown that had caught my notice. Thorin and the saleswoman talked, but I tuned them out and fingered the iridescent fabric.
“You have good taste,” the saleswoman said, tearing her attention away from Thorin. “That should look stunning on you. The color complements your eyes.” She showed me to a dressing room and promised to return with shoes and accessories.
I changed quickly so I could cover my scrapes and bandages before the clerk returned. The dress’s back was full, and the bodice was cap sleeved and covered my shoulders. If I wore my hair down and trimmed my bandages the right way, the dress might cover anything questionable. Bite marks and such. Also, thanks to the plunging V-neckline, no one would likely pay much attention to my shoulder anyway.
The saleswoman returned, bringing jewelry and shoes that complemented the dress. The sandals teetered on an intimidating stiletto heel, but the gold hoops for my ears were slim and elegant. I slipped on the accessories and studied myself in a mirror. I might have dressed up this much for my cousin’s formal wedding, but never again before or after that occasion. The mirror reflected the image of a stranger—a glamorous one, but self-doubt showed in her frown and in the way her shoulders sagged. I closed my eyes, shrugged off my uncertainty, and strode into the showroom.
Thorin, in the middle of thumbing through something on his phone, looked up and froze. I took his reaction as a good sign. He eased a hand to his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and said, “We’ll take it.”
I turned and scurried into the dressing room before Thorin could see me blush. I removed the dress and glanced at the price tag. My mouth went dry. It would take months of straightening the stockroom of Thorin’s store to pay him back. The saleswoman cleared her throat to announce her presence, and I dropped the tag and shoved the large number out of my thoughts. She took my purchases to the register while I changed into my street clothes.
Thorin carried my bags from the store for me. “It’s too much,” I said. “I can’t pay you back.”
“There would be plenty of ways you could pay me back, if you were that kind of woman… or if I were that kind of man. Fortunately for you, I’m not Val. Any information we learn at this dinner tonight will well be worth the price of a dress.”
Thorin and I returned the dress and accessories to my cabin in the boat. Then we went in search of something to appease my bothersome hunger. Thorin hadn’t used those words exactly, but he made finding a quick bite to eat feel like an imposition on his time. Lunch wound up being an awkward few minutes of me gobbling a sandwich and a bag of chips in a café while Thorin stood outside making business calls and texting.
Late in the afternoon, after we purchased a few necessities at a drug store and located the hotel catering the dinner party, Thorin and I returned to the marina. I removed my bandages, showered, and spent half an hour drying my hair using the dinky travel dryer I’d bought in the drug store. I studied my injuries in my bedroom mirror, noted the progress of my healing, and set about reapplying the dressings, grunting against the pain when I raised my arm the wrong way. Thorin might have helped, if I asked, but I was already indebted to him enough for one day.
Before I went to work on my makeup, I put in a long-overdue call to Skyla. When Thorin and I had gone out earlier, I’d left my cell phone on the boat on purpose, to avoid calls from people I had no interest in talking to, such as my parents and Val. Skyla had tried calling several times according to the caller I.D. So had Val. The things he had to say would likely upset me, so I put off listening to his voicemail.
“Tell me everything!” Skyla demanded. She answered on the first ring as though she had the phone in hand, waiting for my call. I reviewed all that had happened from the moment Val arrived during my shower to the argument about where I would stay, about who had withheld information, and finally about Val leaving in a rage. I told her about Thorin, his claims, his connections, his boat, our shopping trip in Juneau, and our pending dinner with Helen Locke.
“Boss Man bought you a dress?” Skyla said.
“Yeah, so? What was I supposed to wear?”
“He bought you an expensive dress? Did he buy you jewelry too?”
“Nothing sparkly,” I said. “It’s necessary. I’m playing the part of wolf bait. It helps if the lure is attractive.”
“Hmmm,” Skyla said, unconvinced. “I’m going to do some research into this Helen Locke.”
“Dinner is at seven. Call me before then if you find anything useful.”
“I will.”
I twiddled the corner of the pillowcase beside me for a moment before I inhaled a breath of courage. “You haven’t talked to Val, have you?”
Skyla huffed. “I wouldn’t call it talking, exactly.”
“He’s pissed, huh?”
“That’s a mild word for it.”
“He ought to know that I don’t heel to his whims.”
Skyla laughed, but it sounded pitiful, like laughing at someone who fell in a mud puddle. A mud puddle named Val. “Uh-huh. What Val ought to know and what Val actually believes rarely equate. He’s on the war path. Be careful when you get back.”
“He’s not the violent type, is he?”
“With you, no. Thorin, on the other hand…”
“I think Thorin can handle himself.”
“Yeah, and that would be a fight worthy of showing on pay-per-view. Val is jealous and possessive. He’s not going to forgive Thorin for this very easily.”
“Val doesn’t own me,” I said.
“Try telling him that.”
“I don’t think I will. Not right now.”
Skyla started to say something else, but a loud bang and an angry voice in the background interrupted her. “Oh, shit,” she said.
“What?” Visions of snapping teeth flashed before my eyes.
