Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“If I cut out the Nikes he wanted, I can buy him a few more video games,” she says, recalling my attention.
I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from insisting she buy them both with my credit card. This thing with Tempe might be new, but I know her level of pride and she’d be offended. She wants to be able to do this on her own and I’m bound and determined to let her.
“That’s a good plan,” I manage.
She tugs at my sleeve, an impish grin on her face. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
I can’t fucking help myself. I must kiss her and I do, oblivious to all else. “My pleasure,” I murmur, and take my own sense of pride in the dazed look on her face.
I chuckle, allowing myself to be pulled away to the next store, but the image of the bracelet burns bright in my mind.
“I want to hit the tea shop for my mom,” Tempe says, her hand slipping into mine. I squeeze, loving the feel of her touch and the message to anyone watching that we’re a couple.
As we round a corner, a group of enthusiastic fans spots us. Tempe doesn’t see them but I do, having noticed them staring at us before. They rush over, phones ready, and I brace for the inevitable requests for selfies and autographs.
“Rafferty… Rafferty… can we get a photo?”
Tempe seems startled but quickly recovers, pulling her hand from mine. She pats me on the shoulder. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
As she takes a few steps away, I’m swarmed. A couple of pretty women flirt openly, laying it on thick, and I feel a twinge of discomfort under Tempe’s watchful eye. I sign napkins, lean in for photos, and a quick glance at my girl reveals a smirk playing on her lips as she observes the scene. I wrap up as quickly as politeness allows, and rejoin her, my cheeks slightly warm.
“Way to cater to your fans, Mr. Popular,” she quips, her tone light and teasing.
“Yeah, well, they seem more interested when you’re around,” I reply, trying to brush off the awkwardness, but I’m thinking it’s of my own making. Tempe seems not to mind sharing me in this way, which only makes her that much cooler in my book.
We continue on, reaching the quaint tea shop that Tempe insists has the perfect gifts for her mom. As we walk around, my mind drifts back to that bracelet. I haven’t bought anything for Tempe yet and had planned to run back out after I drop her at her house this afternoon. But there’s an opportunity here and as she dives into a discussion with the salesclerk about herbal blends and infusions, I fake a glance at my phone.
“Ah, it’s Coach,” I lie, stepping back from the counter. “Need to take this. Be right back.”
Tempe gives me a distracted smile, absorbed in her tea discussion, and I seize the moment. I exit the shop, holding the phone to my ear, and when I’m out of Tempe’s line of sight, I dart back to the jewelry store.
As soon as I step inside, a clerk locks eyes on me, meeting me at the case that holds the bracelet. “Can I see that?” I ask, pointing at the sparkling jewelry.
“Perfect selection, sir,” he says, reaching for the bracelet. “A total of three carats and has matching earrings I can show you.”
“Just the bracelet.” I take it from his hand, flipping it over to examine. I don’t even look at the price tag but merely hand it back to him with my credit card. “I’ll take it.”
He inclines his head. “Special occasion, sir?”
“Christmas gift for my girlfriend,” I reply, realizing that’s the first time I’ve called Tempe that to another person. It feels right.
“Then you must let me wrap this up for you. I have some lovely options—”
“No, just ring it up,” I say, glancing over my shoulder and hoping to God Tempe is still deciding on what tea to purchase.
“It will only take a moment,” he says, reaching under the counter to pull out some paper.
“No. Thank you. I’m in a hurry.”
“Surely you can spare five minutes,” he says.
Losing my patience, I snap at him. “No, I can’t, because this is a surprise and my girlfriend is right around the corner. So run my credit card through and just give me the box.”
The clerk has the gall to look offended, but it’s no matter to me. He stiffly nods, turns to the register and thankfully, the transaction takes just a few seconds. “Would you like a bag?” he asks as I complete the transaction on the digital pad.
“Nope.” I’m handed a gray velvet box that fits easily in the inside pocket of my jacket. I’ll implore Farren to help me make it pretty later. “Thank you for your help.”