The western clothing store Calvin found seemed to have everything.Brock could even forget they were in New York,not Texas.Okay,they had more sparkly shirts with fringe type dealies on them that no genuine cowboy would be seen dead wearing,but there was plenty of the real stuff,too.But the prices!Brock put back a pair of stonewashed Wranglers.
Calvin took the jeans back off the rack and held them against Brock’s legs.“Stop it,”he admonished.“My treat,remember.Do you like them?”
Brock admitted he did.
“And I bet your ass would look purty damn fine in‘em,”Calvin whispered.
Brock felt himself blush.Damn his fair complexion.He’d had the same thought.
To his credit,Junior only chose a couple of items.Calvin looked at Brock,who nodded.
“That’s a good start,Junior,”Calvin said,“but what about boots?And wehaven’t visited the hat department yet.”
Junior—who saw Brock nod—said,“You sure,Dad?”
“If Calvin says it’s okay,then it’s okay.”