would fade if she sat still.
But her hands were restless. She had to force them closed so she wouldn’t pick at the hem of the robe. The lace edging was delicate and wholly impractical. The whole garment was impractical—that was what had drawn her to it in the first place. She’d seen it on the rack in that store she usually only browsed in for kitchen fripperies and assorted funky household stuff. But when she’d seen the coral and pink roses on silk, shattering the elegance of the garment with their lurid chartreuse leaves and excessively riotous blooms, Kami had never wanted an article of clothing more.
It whispered sensuality and romance. Mystery. Allure .
She’d tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the slim, waif-like bodies who shopped on the left-hand side of the store, while women with bodies like hers browsed home goods on the right. But it called to her, that delicate fabric that seemed to be the quintessence of femininity. She’d tried to find a pillow sham in the same pattern, hoping to ease that all-consuming desire to own that particular textile—even knowing that there was nowhere in her home it would work—but there was nothing remotely similar.
A quick internet search showed her the kimono was available in-store only. If she wanted it, she’d have to bite the bullet and buy it right that minute. Go with the age-old trick of asking for a gift receipt and a gift box so the terminally stylish twenty-something at the register wouldn’t give her one of those sad, sad looks. Poor, miserable big girl, couldn’t possibly squeeze her ass into something from our store.
Kami had left it in the trunk of her car for a week. Then two. She willfully missed the return-by deadline while brainstorming ways to use the fabric if it didn’t fit. When it didn’t fit . But by some miracle of boho-chic styling, the XL kimono was oversized. When she lifted the silk chiffon confection from the gift box and held it up in front of her, it was voluminous. Voluptuous.
It fit her perfectly and made her feel like she lived in a painting.
Ruffles trotted up and miraculously lay down at her feet, not jumping up to muddy the hem of the silk with his paws. She nudge-petted him with her foot. He was such a good boy, knowing that he wasn’t allowed free reign of the back yard after he’d finished taking care of his business.
Lazy, was more like it. He loved this little scrap of wood deck almost as much as she did.
Kami tried to take a deep breath, but it kept catching in her throat. The night was quiet. Silent.
Empty .
She tried to be content with the peacefulness—and the fact she hadn’t yet felt any mosquitos alight on her exposed flesh—but it wasn’t working. She was restless, as empty as the vast night sky.
The air was so slow tonight. The cloud cover obscuring, then revealing, only a hint of starlight. No moon. Just still, warm air settling over her.
And then, there it was—that sharp edge of awareness.
Kami wasn’t alone. He was over there.
In the darkness of his yard. That simple square of green, void of elaborate landscaping, but no less neat. He was there.
There might have been a moment when her heart picked up, blood pumping, telling her to go back inside. But there was another moment—much scarier, truth be told—that told her to let the robe fall off one shoulder, to twist up her hair into a knot on the top of her head so her breasts, bare beneath the robe and her thin camisole, would be on display for him.
And it was that moment that had her frozen in place. What a ridiculous thought. Like he’d want to see… that.
He’d be sitting on his back porch steps. By the light of day, they were narrow, barely worth calling a porch—more of a landing to climb up to the back door—and set just a few feet off the ground for their old pier and beam houses. But at night, they were, like everything else about him, shadowy and unknown.
Kami held her breath. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t
But her hands were restless. She had to force them closed so she wouldn’t pick at the hem of the robe. The lace edging was delicate and wholly impractical. The whole garment was impractical—that was what had drawn her to it in the first place. She’d seen it on the rack in that store she usually only browsed in for kitchen fripperies and assorted funky household stuff. But when she’d seen the coral and pink roses on silk, shattering the elegance of the garment with their lurid chartreuse leaves and excessively riotous blooms, Kami had never wanted an article of clothing more.
It whispered sensuality and romance. Mystery. Allure .
She’d tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the slim, waif-like bodies who shopped on the left-hand side of the store, while women with bodies like hers browsed home goods on the right. But it called to her, that delicate fabric that seemed to be the quintessence of femininity. She’d tried to find a pillow sham in the same pattern, hoping to ease that all-consuming desire to own that particular textile—even knowing that there was nowhere in her home it would work—but there was nothing remotely similar.
A quick internet search showed her the kimono was available in-store only. If she wanted it, she’d have to bite the bullet and buy it right that minute. Go with the age-old trick of asking for a gift receipt and a gift box so the terminally stylish twenty-something at the register wouldn’t give her one of those sad, sad looks. Poor, miserable big girl, couldn’t possibly squeeze her ass into something from our store.
Kami had left it in the trunk of her car for a week. Then two. She willfully missed the return-by deadline while brainstorming ways to use the fabric if it didn’t fit. When it didn’t fit . But by some miracle of boho-chic styling, the XL kimono was oversized. When she lifted the silk chiffon confection from the gift box and held it up in front of her, it was voluminous. Voluptuous.
It fit her perfectly and made her feel like she lived in a painting.
Ruffles trotted up and miraculously lay down at her feet, not jumping up to muddy the hem of the silk with his paws. She nudge-petted him with her foot. He was such a good boy, knowing that he wasn’t allowed free reign of the back yard after he’d finished taking care of his business.
Lazy, was more like it. He loved this little scrap of wood deck almost as much as she did.
Kami tried to take a deep breath, but it kept catching in her throat. The night was quiet. Silent.
Empty .
She tried to be content with the peacefulness—and the fact she hadn’t yet felt any mosquitos alight on her exposed flesh—but it wasn’t working. She was restless, as empty as the vast night sky.
The air was so slow tonight. The cloud cover obscuring, then revealing, only a hint of starlight. No moon. Just still, warm air settling over her.
And then, there it was—that sharp edge of awareness.
Kami wasn’t alone. He was over there.
In the darkness of his yard. That simple square of green, void of elaborate landscaping, but no less neat. He was there.
There might have been a moment when her heart picked up, blood pumping, telling her to go back inside. But there was another moment—much scarier, truth be told—that told her to let the robe fall off one shoulder, to twist up her hair into a knot on the top of her head so her breasts, bare beneath the robe and her thin camisole, would be on display for him.
And it was that moment that had her frozen in place. What a ridiculous thought. Like he’d want to see… that.
He’d be sitting on his back porch steps. By the light of day, they were narrow, barely worth calling a porch—more of a landing to climb up to the back door—and set just a few feet off the ground for their old pier and beam houses. But at night, they were, like everything else about him, shadowy and unknown.
Kami held her breath. Maybe he hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t
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