Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Snatching the Neccos from me, he adds it to the pile he’s buying, and tells the clerk, “Add that to my order.”
I lean my back against the counter, eyeing him. I let my smile carry on. “You know, Decker, you kind of sound like you might be jealous.”
“Pfft. What or whom would I be jealous of?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out, but give me some time and I will.”
He hands over his card to pay for the candy and then angles my way. “Listen, Devreux, I’m not jealous.”
The funny thing is he doesn’t sound mad, not even a little perturbed. Maybe a little defensive, but he’s volleying the banter right back just fine. He takes the bag from the clerk, and we head toward the door, which he holds open for me.
Despite the eight million people in the city, as soon as it closes and we’re alone, it feels private. Out on the sidewalk, he stops in front of the Ring Pop proposal, and as he looks around, he smiles again. “Why do you care if I get jealous?”
“Just wondering why you would. That’s all.”
I turn to lean, but he catches my arm. “You may have forgotten about how good we are together, but I haven’t.”
As we stand in front of the perfection of the confectionary display, our conversation hasn’t taken a turn for the worst but traveled down a much more intriguing path. I hold my purse strap in my hand and shift on my heels. “What made you think of that?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, tapping the window. “Maybe it’s the magic.”
“What magic?”
“The magic you spoke of. You said magic can be found around any corner, but you have to be looking for it. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe it found us.”
Denying my heart beating rapidly in my chest is impossible. By how it feels inside, it’s probably louder than the traffic. I turn to face the street, thinking it’s best before I start letting crazy notions fill my head, like kissing him right here. I look down at my shoes, trying to get lost in the details instead of staring at the man next to me. “Maybe we should go.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We start walking again, and I think changing the topic is a good idea. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
“Thinking about seeing what you’re up to.”
Grabbing his shirt by the sleeve, I tug him down the street. “Come on. I’ll let you tag along.”
“First stop?”
“The lingerie store.”
“Now you’re talking my language.”
14
Tatum
“The French knicker in white, the black teddy, and the cheekies.” He points at the table and then rubs his thumb over his bottom lip in contemplation. After putting enough thought into it to solve world hunger, he snaps his fingers and turns to me. “I think you need all four colors of the cheekies.”
He actually was talking lingerie language.
Who knew that Harrison Decker was an aficionado when it came to lingerie and undergarments?
From the couch where I’ve been lounging for the last thirty minutes while he worked with the sales associate, I point at my chest. “Me?”
Seemingly confused, he replies, “Yes you. What do you think?”
“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted my opinion on what lingerie I should buy for myself.
“Ha-ha.” There is no chuckle to accompany the words. “I thought I was helping.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s a tic that Harrison has when he’s trying to give room for other opinions. I’m a quick study when it comes to him.
Joining him at the counter, I eye the pieces he narrowed it down to. “Helping? You’re a bull in a china shop.” Picking up the turquoise cheekies, I discard them to the far side of the counter. I bring the silk thong back into the mix and then push the pile forward to be rung up. Leaning against the counter, I ask him, “Why do you have such a vested interest in what I’m wearing under my clothes anyway?”
He clears his throat and glances to the saleswoman. Bleached blond with her hair twisted back into a chignon. Messy modern, but still elegant. Later thirties, if I had to guess. Plunging neckline that reveals a hint of a lace garment underneath. Very slender. I mentally note that she doesn’t have birthing hips, the term my grandmother once used when referring to how mine will come in handy one day.
I balk at that memory. Me and a baby. That’d be crazy.
Rubbing a hand over my rounded hip, I start to wonder if she’s his type, the type of woman he dates in California?
Her eyes don’t meet mine but go to him when the total is announced. “That will be eight hundred and thirty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents. Will that be cash or charge?”
Whipping my hand through the air, I make a whoosh sound as I hand the card over. I’d failed to notice his was already on the counter. Pulling it back across the slick surface, I inform him, “I’m buying my underwear.”