Chapter 1

I eyed the racks full of fashionable clothing dubiously. Mannequins dressed in dapper suits. An assortment of ties, artfully arranged into a rainbow of color and texture. The store was, at least, well-heated; the weather had taken a turn overnight, and while it wasn’t blizzard conditions, it was quite cold, with a light snow falling.

“C’mon, Mom, can’t we ski first and do this after? You know I love skiing while it’s snowing.” I was aware that I sounded a little petulant, but I didn’t care.

She rolled her eyes. “No, Nathan, we cannot. If you had let me know prior to last night that you hadn’t packed appropriately, we’d have other options. If you had told me in the first place that you didn’t have an appropriate suit with you at college, I would have brought one. As it is, these are simply the consequences of your own actions. So I’m sorry you’re missing skiing this afternoon, but it’s hardly my fault.”

I sighed. My mother never made mistakes like these, but I hadn’t seemed to inherit her organized brain. Of course I hadn’t brought a suit with me to college, or thought to tell her I didn’t have a suit. Or thought at all about what I’d wear to my cousin’s wedding.

I mean, Mom usually took care of all that stuff.

The boutique was high end. But that was appropriate; the family wedding I was attending tomorrow was also high end. Most things here in Aspen were high end, if I was honest; it was that kind of mountain ski town. A limited, upscale set of options for the limited, upscale set of people who vacationed here.

And if you wanted a nice suit, ready in less than twenty four hours, your options were even more limited, evidently. And thus: me, following in my mother’s wake as she strode into the menswear boutique with the air of someone who expects to have her every whim immediately met.

Fortunately, as a result of it being high-end, there actually was a woman available to address my mother’s whims. The woman – probably about my own mother’s age, dressed fashionably, hair in a businesslike bun – immediately greeted her. “Hello, ma’am. My name’s Nancy; what brings you to us today?”

My mother rested a hand on my shoulder. “My son here needs a suit on short notice. It’s for a wedding tomorrow.”

The woman smiled and nodded. “Ah, you must be Mrs. Deveraux. You called ahead. Yes, that’ll be no problem.” I watched her assessing glance taken in my mother’s attire -- chic, in spite of it being February in the mountains. “The Crenshaw wedding, I assume?”

My mother sighed, the gale-force winds of her mood softened by Nancy’s even demeanor and clear competence. “Yes, that’s right. My sister’s son is getting married, and Nathan here needs a suit on short notice.”

“Very well. We can certainly help. Madison, will you come to the front, please?” The woman called over her shoulder, raising her voice only slightly. “We’ll get him measured and pick out something appropriate; our tailor can make rush alterations. You’re fortunate; our selection is actually pretty good right now, we ought to have several options that will work. There’ll only be a modest rush fee.”

My mother nodded, unfazed by fees. Money was never a problem for her. “Excellent, thank you. Now, I’m going to get lunch, Nathan. I’ll see you in an hour or so. Call if you’re done sooner.”

My mother, having successfully checked one more thing off the to-do list, gave me a firm nod, and marched out.

I might’ve felt awkward about the abruptness of her departure, but if I was honest, my attention had moved on from my mother and Nancy. I was watching the woman who was coming from the back of the store towards me.

She was short – much shorter than I was. Long black hair fell in straight lines framing an oval face; big eyes, a cute nose, full lips.

Admittedly, though, my eyes weren’t focused on her face; I was looking at the way she filled out the white button-down blouse and black slacks that seemed to be the boutique’s uniform. The blouse had buttons down the front, the top three of which were unbuttoned to reveal extremely full cleavage – two more buttons past what Nancy had unbuttoned.

In her defense, Madison’s figure looked like it made buttoning any additional buttons impossible, given how she filled out the blouse; her chest strained against the fabric.

Nancy was looking at me. “Madison, Nathan’s mother was the one who called ahead about a suit on short notice. Nathan, Madison here is one of our personal style consultants. She’ll be helping you today.”

“Um, thanks.” I pulled my attention off of Madison and nodded at Nancy. The whole situation was embarrassing. I was twenty-one; Madison couldn’t be much older. And yet, here I was, dropped off by my mom like a teenager at the mall. It was infantilizing.

“Right this way.” Madison’s voice was calm, reserved ... but I could see her give me an amused once-over before she turned around.

I followed her to a back room, watching the sway of her round ass in those tight slacks.

She led me back through the store, glancing over her shoulder at me. “So, do you actually go by Nathan, or is it Nate?”

I just barely managed to pull my eyes up quickly enough to avoid her catching me staring. Now that we were closer, I could see that her eyes were hazel, nearly an amber color. They were captivating; I was silent for a moment before I answered. “Uh, it is Nate, actually.”

She was really pretty. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad way to spend part of the day instead of skiing.

She led me to what must be a room for fitting and measuring. There was a chair in the middle of the room on a little platform; she gestured towards it.

“Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink while we do this? Coffee? A beer?”

I’d never been offered a beverage while shopping. Upscale was nice, sometimes.

I waffled for a moment. I suddenly cared a lot about making a good impression on Madison, and a beer was the more adult choice, I decided.

Although it wasn’t even noon. I could imagine my mother’s disapproval.

Which cemented the decision, obviously.

“Uh, a beer would be great, actually.”

She moved to a minifridge in the corner and pulled out a beer, handing it to me. It was ice cold – it felt great, in the warm store. I cracked it open and sipped.

Then she sat at a stool, facing me, and smiled; it was a polite, completely appropriate smile, although there was more of an edge to it than I expected, like she was about to say something sarcastic or clever.

Sitting facing each other, I could see she was indeed a few years older than me; in her late twenties, maybe. There was a confidence about her. “Now, Nate. First, I’ve got a few questions, and then you can try a few suits on you to make sure you like the color and cut.”

I shrugged. “Sounds good. I, uh ... I don’t really know much about formalwear.” And then I gave her a smile back. Mom gone, beer in hand, pretty girl talking to me. I was enjoying myself.

“Well, don’t worry, you’re in extremely capable hands with me. After we cover color and cut, we’ll dial in the fit by taking your measurements. I’ll pull one of our suits off the rack, we’ll measure and pin it up so it fits you, then we’ll send it all to the tailor and get you out of here; you can come back later on today to grab it. Shall we get started?” She leaned forward, all earnest enthusiasm.

I nodded. “Let’s do it.” I didn’t hear anything suggestive in the way she said you’re in extremely capable hands, but I liked the sound of it anyway.

And I certainly savored the additional view I had down her shirt. The blouse was fitted enough that it didn’t really fall away from her body much, but the angle gave me a better view of her cleavage, and I did get the hint of a brastrap – simple and nude in color, which somehow made it more tantalizing, like I was seeing something she hadn’t intended to show off.

She pulled out a little pad of paper. “Okay. First thing’s first. Tell me about this wedding. Any idea what the groom and groomsmen are wearing? Ties of a particular color, that sort of thing?”

That set me back. “Uh ... I think Steve is probably gonna be in a tux ... the groomsmen, um, I’m not sure...” I trailed off, at a loss.

She laughed. I liked her laugh – it was attractive, knowledgeable, worldy. But it was also the kind of laugh that immediately made you feel like you might be the butt of the joke. It gave me an instant spike of self-doubt. She probably saw all kinds of affluent clientele come through here, people who attended all kinds of fancy parties.

And they probably all knew what the groom was wearing.

In an instant, her amusement subsided; she must’ve seen the embarrassment on my face, perhaps realizing she taken it too far. She rolled her eyes and slapped my arm playfully. “I swear, men don’t pay attention to this stuff. You probably don’t know the bridesmaids colors either, do you?”

I shook my head ruefully. “Uh ... does that matter?”

Madison sighed. “Well, it depends. It probably won’t matter ... but if it does, it matters a lot. Let’s say they’re all wearing navy. And then let’s say I put you in a navy suit, and let’s say it just happens to be the exact same shade of navy as their dresses. And then your mother, who sounds like the demanding sort, asks why I dressed you like one of the bridesmaids. It would be good to avoid that.”

“Gotcha.” Her mention of my mother made me wince. Madison was exactly right.

Satisfied that she’d made her point, she continued. “And are you going solo or with a date?”

I winced again. Another sore point.