Free Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) by Genevieve Pearson Page B

do,” Sam said, handing over her share of the cash, “I don’t.  This isn’t mine.”
    “If it’s my money, I get to say how I want to spend it then, don’t I?”
    Sam faced off with Lane.  She’d gone through life on a cash-basis.  The first loan she’d taken out had been for college, and she avoided credit cards like the plague.  Already she owed Lane her life.  Money for clothes on top of that?
    “Look, you’re being stubborn for stubborn’s sake.  Just take the money.”
    “Me?”  Sam said, “What about you?”
    “I have clothes, thanks!  I got to pack a bag!  You expect to travel cross-country in filthy clothes?”
    “It doesn’t bother me.  I’ll make due.”
    “OK, then, it bugs me,” Lane said, “To be honest, your clothes are starting to smell a little funky.”
    With a glower, Sam reached forward and snatched some twenties from Lane’s hand.  Arching her chin in the air, without a word, she pocketed the money.
“Low blow,” Al hissed to Harry.  Sam could hear his stage whisper from ten feet away.  So could the rest of the world.  

 
     
    Chapter 8
     
    “You know, there’s not a lot of choice here.”  The casino boutique and gift shop was the first place Samantha had walked into.  It had the advantage of being on the way to the dealership.  It had the disadvantage of catering towards a different taste than Samantha’s.  Namely, that of a sexually promiscuous and color-blind tourist who didn’t mind his or her clothing being excessively flammable.
    “Pink, black, or blue, that’s not bad.  I think any of those colors would look good on you.”
    Lane was referring to the warm-up outfits arrayed in front of them.  Matching hooded sweatshirts and pants for the discerning woman who wanted to look like she was working out and yet still remain swathed in velvet.  
    “It’s not the color that bothers me,” Samantha replied.  She picked up a pair of pants and flipped it over, revealing the rhinestone text bedazzled on the backside: “Sex Kitten, Play Bunny, or Vegas Vixen.  Stellar options, everyone.”
    “I like the pink one,” Lane supplied.  That was the one that read Sex Kitten.
    A salesgirl appeared, apparently out of thin air, smiling, “I think it would be super-cute with your complexion.”
    “I don’t wear pink,” Sam repeated, “I like blue.”
    “I bet your friend already has a lot of blue, doesn’t she?”  The girl sidled up to Lane.   
    The look Samantha shot the saleswoman could have been frozen ice.  So what if she did?  She liked blue.  She had always liked blue.  Blue was nice.  It brought out the color of her eyes and went with everything, including the jeans she always wore and especially the closet full of blue stuff she already owned.
    “The pink looks really ho—good on you,” Lane agreed, “That wishy-washy blue makes you look sort of—”
    “Wishy-washy,” Salesgirl supplied helpfully.
    Whatever.  She wasn’t paying.  Sam handed Lane the top, “Pink it is.”
    Lane grinned, “Now, for something to go with it.”
    “I have the perfect magenta cami to go with that!” Salesgirl squealed and disappeared.  Sam blinked.  How could one person muster so much enthusiasm over something as straightforward as a tank top?  Sorry, cami .
    “Magenta,” Sam said to Lane, “That’s pink, only slightly darker.”
    Lane shrugged and laughed. 
    “You know, guys aren’t supposed to enjoy shopping.”
    “I don’t,” he said, “What I do enjoy is watching the sparks fly between you and the salespeople.  She’s trying to help.”
    “I’m perfectly capable of helping myself.”  And Sam didn’t like the way Salesgirl had assessed Lane and her and deemed them a non-couple.  It’s not that she wanted to be considered Lane’s girlfriend, Sam reasoned, but she disliked being treated like she somehow wasn’t up to par for him.  He was a nine, sure.  But she had things going for her, too.  Subtly, Sam turned to