Morgan had always thought of clothes as clothes, never really thought much about them besides how they covered him and how they might present him to others. However, Harper's restrained excitement was catching, and curious, he let her present him with a stack of clothing that was studded with pins.
“So are you planning to turn me into a pincushion?”
“No, I want you to put on the clothes inside out. That'll give me a better idea of how the seams are going to lie.”
Morgan nodded, not quite sure he understood, but willing to bow to her superior expertise. He carefully put the suit on, still managing to give himself the odd scratch and poke, and he felt a little ridiculous until he moved out from behind the screen.
“This…fits better.”
Harper laughed as she came to look him over.
“Good!”
“No, it feels easier to wear. It doesn't feel like a load of wool on me.”
“And again, good. That's exactly right. It didn't fit you well before.”
“It was made for me.”
“It was, and then you changed.” She paused. “You know, it's not your job to stay the exact same shape as your suit. It's impossible.”
Before Morgan could read too much into that, she was looking him over, walking around him and making quick notations on a small scratch pad she carried. She was dressed much as she had been the first time he had come into the shop, this time with a soft cardigan over her tank top and skirt, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
While he was certainly still enthralled by her existence and the discovery of his true mate, nothing at all was helped by the fact that she was a very beautiful woman whisking around him, touching him in unexpected places as she plucked at his clothing while he had to keep his hands down by his sides.
He did all right until he happened to glance down and notice that her round cheeks were flushed as well.
“How are you doing there, Harper?” Morgan asked softly, and his suspicions were confirmed when that soft blush deepened and spilled down her neck.
“I am doing just fine,” she said almost defiantly. “I am a professional. I do things like this all the time.”
“With all those handsome men that come in for a suit fitting, yes?”
“Are you going to remember that forever?”
“I might. It makes you blush.”
If anything, that made her blush even harder, and he couldn't help smiling wider at that. It occurred to him how foreign the smile felt on his face and how very long it had been since he had last smiled so very much.
“Shush,” Harper said. “I just have a little more to do, and then we can get on the road.”
Morgan quieted, both because she had asked him to and also because it allowed him to watch her work, which was a strange pleasure all on its own. She was ferociously intent on the task at hand, and he found himself enthralled by the small line between her pale eyebrows and the way strands of her silvery hair escaped her casual ponytail.
“All right,” she said. “Can you move a little for me? Stretch out a little, twist, arms over your head, that kind of thing.”
Obediently, Morgan did as she asked, and then he blinked. It was still a wool suit. It wasn't like it had magically turned into a T-shirt and athletic shorts or anything. However, some of the adjustments Harper had made allowed him to move a great deal more easily, to bend and flex almost as he would in his normal clothing.
“You're magic,” he said, making her laugh in surprise.
“You are literally a dragon,” she said, as if he had somehow forgotten. “I think you have the market cornered on magic.”
“This fits better than it did when I first got it.”
“Good! That means I am doing my job. If the fit's to your liking, that's going to be all I need,” Harper said. “Go ahead and get undressed.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, causing her to blush again.
“And then get dressed in your regular clothes. I believe you were pretty set on your family reunion?”
The reminder of the convocation was almost as good as getting doused with cold water. Morgan could feel his face go still, and he turned from Harper before she could see how it had affected him. In the excitement of the attack and in finding his true mate, he had almost forgotten what was happening, what he had to do.
Harper's not a dragon, he thought, stripping behind the screen. She won't care, will she? She didn't even know dragons existed a few days ago. Surely she doesn't care.
That made one of them.
He came out from behind the screen to find Harper packing his suit, zipping it carefully into what looked like a reinforced garment bag. There was something about her careful motions and determinedly cheerful expression that made him think she knew that something was up with him, and he was incredibly grateful when she didn't mention it.
“Well,” Harper said gesturing, “this is me. If you grab the box, I can grab the rest.”
The box contained a small sewing machine, a miniature version of the steel monster that took up one wall of the shop. Otherwise, apparently all she was bringing was the garment bag containing his suit and a backpack.
“Is that all you're taking along?”
Harper raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes? I'm just going to be sewing and maybe consulting with your cousin's kid. It's not like I'm meeting the president or something.”
Morgan bit back the protest that she would be meeting his family. He knew that they would be kind – they had better be – but he rebelled against the idea of her thinking she was just the help.
“You're right,” he found himself saying. “But if you find that you want something a bit nicer
