“That’s always my dad’s answer.”
“I’m not good at picking guys.” I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t good at picking them or I wasn’t looking for the right thing. I knew what I didn’t want. I knew someone who put family first was important to me, and most of the men I came across were driven and ambitious. I didn’t want a man who didn’t understand what should be a priority. I didn’t want a man like my father.
“I figure I’ll work hard, make my own money, have fun, and see if Prince Charming shows up unexpectedly.” Seemed unlikely but I hadn’t entirely given up hope. “The thing about boys is that you can think they’re going to be one thing and they turn out to be entirely another.” Max King was a perfect example of that. I still didn’t really know who he was. Was he an asshole? Someone who cared about a downtown deli-owner’s business? Or just a man who knew how to fuck? Maybe all of the above.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Sure. Be careful to avoid the guys who tell you how great they are. I’m looking for a man who shows me what a great guy he is.” By ignoring me, Max had proved he was an asshole. “Judge people by their actions, not their words.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that Callum Ryder likes me, but he hasn’t asked me to the dance.”
“Does that happen in the eighth grade? You go as boy-girl couples?”
She tucked her hair around her ear. “You don’t go together. I guess it just means you’ll dance with them when you’re there.”
That made more sense. “Right. And you want Callum Ryder to ask you?”
“Well, if he likes me, I thought he would.”
“But do you like him? Don’t be satisfied with a boy just because he likes you.” I poured detergent into the machines.
“He’s popular, and good at sports.”
“Do you get butterflies in your stomach when you see him?” I asked. I might not like him, but Max was hot. And an excellent lay. And I had to admit to a couple of tiny butterflies whenever our eyes met.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so,” she replied.
“If he doesn’t give you butterflies, he’s not worth going toe-to-toe with your dad for. He sounds protective.”
I finished loading the final washer and pressed start on all three machines.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He’s just not good with women.”
I laughed. “None of them are. It’s a good lesson to learn early in life.”
“And he wants me to stay a baby. I don’t want go to my eighth grade dance wearing a frilly dress that a three-year-old would wear.”
“You got a picture of the strapless one?”
She pulled out her phone, scrolled through photos, then held up her handset. The dress was a little revealing. “It’s pretty, but I think you can do better by leaving a little more to the imagination,” I replied. “Can I?” I held out my hand for her phone.
I hopped up next to her and began to scroll through websites. “Have you thought about one of those dresses with a long sheer skirt over a shorter skirt? That might make him happy.”
She grinned at me. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Harper. Finder of eighth-grade-dance dresses.”
“I’m Amanda. Needer of an eighth-grade-dance dress.”
“It’s fate,” I said, tapping the phone.
“Do you think I could do strapless if it’s long?”
Amanda’s father didn’t sound like a man who wanted his daughter to show any skin. “I don’t think strapless is the most flattering style. I think you can still show off some skin here,” I said, sweeping my hand below my neck, “without upsetting your dad. We need to find something off the shoulder. Suits all women, young and old.”
Amanda grinned at me. “That sounds like it could work.”
“And then maybe something long but with a slit up the leg?” I glanced up from the phone to see Amanda fidgeting excitedly.
We spent the next hour looking at different styles, working out what would be demure enough to please her father, but pretty enough to please her.
Eventually Amanda’s laundry was ready. “I better go back. He’ll be home from work and wondering where I am. I left a note, but he won’t read it.” She rolled her eyes. Her phone started to vibrate, Dad flashing on the screen. “Speak of the devil.”
“Hi, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m coming up now.”
“He has dinner ready,” she said. “I better go.”
Wow. A man so devoted to his daughter he didn’t date, and on top of that he cooked. Sounded like a keeper. “Never say no to a man who can cook. And remember, be nice to him. That’s the way to get what you want. Men get taken in so easily by a few compliments.” I winked at her.