“I’m not in tune to the current trends. Are you sure this isn’t too casual?”
“You look incredibly handsome. It’s the perfect style for you,” his personal shopper and longtime friend, Krista, said from directly behind him.
“And you can take in the seam through here?” He ran a finger down the side of the shirt. He didn’t necessarily want the shirt to fit like a glove, because he wanted to move comfortably. He wished he could talk to the tailor himself. No, he wished he would have thought of the possibility of their date sooner, then he could have better prepared.
Robert lifted his gaze to the mirror again. He guessed this was as good as he could get and finally nodded his approval.
He had scheduled a hair appointment, deciding on some subtle highlights to help bring the summer blond out in his hair, and he needed a full manscape. He’d gone without any real grooming since his father had died. His heart twisted, but he stopped the thought right there. Not today. No negativity today. It was hard because whatever this was with Landon, it had him confused and all mixed up. He wished he could talk to his parents about his feelings. He’d always trusted their advice. What he wouldn’t give to have had more time. Damn, he missed them.
Robert tugged his lip between his teeth, worrying the soft flesh. Maybe he should go back to the light blue Hawaiian shirt style. It implied easygoing, and he wanted Landon to see that side of him.
He scanned the clothes again. About halfway down, something caught his attention. A small, almost unnoticeable, feather danced as if suspended in air by unseen hands before slowly floating gracefully down to the floor. Robert bent, picking it up. If there had been any lingering doubt about his clothing choice, it ended in that moment. He shook his head at the absurdity, but it didn’t change the outcome. He was doing the right thing, and this was the outfit his parents wanted him to wear. Maybe. It was hard to know if he was going crazy or if he should keep following what he could only explain as his designated sign.
“Robert, is this a go? The tailor’s waiting.”
The words pulled him from his thoughts. He went back into his dressing room. “We got our yes. I’ll hand them over the door.”
He carefully laid the feather on the blue jeans he’d worn into the store. He was collecting the feathers he had found, saving them. If anyone found out, they’d think he had lost his mind, but for some reason, it gave him comfort to believe in such a simple notion.
“Great. You’ll look great for your date.”
He pulled the shirt over his head, handing it over the door. “I didn’t tell you I was going on a date.”
“You’ve been my client for almost ten years, and you’ve never been this picky. It has to be a date,” she called out.
He chuckled under his breath. Yep, she knew him. He wasn’t going to confirm or deny her observation and began unbuttoning his pants.
“Hey, have you seen any birds in here?” He had to know. All these weird coincidences had to have an explanation.
“No. Why?” Her tone sounded confused and maybe a little on the you-so-crazy side.
“I was just wondering,” he said, kicking off his shoes.
“About birds?” she questioned. That time there was a distinct insinuation of crazy.
He really didn’t feel like explaining. How could he? He’d come off as either sad or deranged, making her tone dead-on correct. “Never mind. It’s crazy, and I’m going to be late to my appointment.” He tossed the slacks over the door. He’d lost some weight and was between sizes, so he needed them taken in.
“I’m taking these downstairs. Leave the rest in the dressing room. I’ll get them when I get back. I’ll have your alterations ready by five.”
“Thanks, Krista.” Five o’clock was cutting it close, traffic could be a nightmare, but he didn’t try to rush her. It was almost one o’clock now, and he had hours of grooming ahead of him. “Throw in a bottle of Clive Christian.”
“Got it. Now get going. You’re late for your appointment.”
He quickly put on his jeans and sweatshirt, carefully tucking the feather in his back pocket. Glancing at his watch, he breathed a sigh of relief that the spa was just upstairs.
The lengths Landon went through to get the afternoon and evening off from his volunteer position were insane. He had to promise to continue volunteering at the PT clinic at least one day a week for the next month after he was released to full duty.
He’d been perfectly—sort of perfectly—okay with that. What concerned him was the tattoo parlor/barber shop the guys in PT had referred him to. Apparently, the chick that owned this place was a veteran and gave the best care to current and retired military. That was the good part. The worry came when the hard as nails female with a buzz cut of her own rounded the corner with what had to be seventy percent of her body covered in tattoos.
He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. Maybe he should have given this idea more thought. To get all spruced up might have been better accomplished by going to one of those hair salons full of women, at least they would be up on the latest trends.
“You Landon?” Her raspy, harsh voice matched her exterior.
“I am,” he answered, pushing down all the doubt encouraging him to bolt.
“I’m Lottie. Come on back.” She jerked her head to the side, indicating the direction, and headed that way.
Landon followed, the blaring music growing louder the farther they went
