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West opens the door to the shop. “Come on guys.”
“Um, no thanks, I’m good,” I say, pulling on the brim of my hat just for something to do with my hands. Thank goodness my face is disguised by these sunglasses, because I’m certainly as red as a tomato right now.
“You don’t want to look for something for Amber? She’d love it! Women like when they know we’re thinking about them, especially when we’re away,” West says, smirking. “Don’t be shy. We’re grown adults, Remy.”
I glance over at Mitch, whose been quiet this entire time. I’m hoping he’ll side with me. Colby and West head into the shop, leaving me and Mitch behind.
Finally, Mitch shrugs a shoulder and takes a step toward the door.
“Really?” I ask, feeling unamused.
“I’m getting married in a few weeks. I like the idea seeing my girl in lingerie as much as the next guy. Sue me.” With that, he walks inside Naughty Nothings, leaving me staring at the sparkly door handle.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. If I don’t go in and shop, they’ll think it’s weird. I’m supposedly a frisky newlywed after all. But if I do go inside the store, I’ll be awkward and embarrassed, and then they’ll wonder why I’m so shy about buying lingerie for my wife.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
With an exaggerated groan, I yank open the stupid shiny door and step inside.
Looking around the place, the first thing I notice is that everything is pink, black, glittery…or all three. The floors, the walls, the light fixtures. It’s overwhelming to my senses, but I continue walking to catch up to the guys. They’re shopping with purpose, eyeing the delicate lace ensembles, and waggling their eyebrows. Except Mitch. He’s separated from the pack and is shopping alone. Typical.
Colby looks up from where he’s holding a pair of underwear that’s basically just a string. “You look lost, Remy. Don’t worry, I’ll help.”
Before I can refuse, he drops the panties and drapes an arm around my shoulders. “All right, what’s Amber’s favorite color? That’s a good place to start.”
“Um,” I stutter. “Pink, but…”
“Ahh, so she likes pink, but you prefer her in a different color?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, not knowing how to answer.
“So, what’s your favorite color?” he asks, putting his arm around me to steer me around the shop.
“Red,” I say, then decide that sounds too made up since it’s our team color. “Black.”
“Ahh,” he muses. “A simple man. Black is a classic choice, my guy.” He ushers me to a section of black silk.
One garment catches my eyes immediately, smooth black silk trimmed in ornate, white lace. The very deep v at the front is lined with the same white lace, and the edges of the bottom too. It looks so silky, and before I can stop myself, I reach up and glide one hand over the fabric. My rough hand, calloused from lifting weights doesn’t even snag on the fabric. It’s as soft as Amber’s skin, and the vision of her wearing this sexy yet sophisticated little number has my blood boiling. I can feel the heat all the way from my toes to my face.
I sense Colby’s stare and glance over to find him smirking at me, arching one eyebrow. “Yep, I think you found the one, Captain.”
Trying not to be humiliated about blushing like a schoolboy in the middle of a lingerie store, I roll my eyes at him. But I also grab the nightie off the rack and head to the check-out counter before the guys coerce me into looking at anything else.
I tell myself I’m buying the negligee to be a good actor. To show the guys this marriage is real, and to pretend like I will totally see my wife in this tiny scrap of fabric. But deep, deep down, there’s that fantasy of some miracle happening, getting to see it come true.
The girl at the front desk asks if I found everything okay. I try—and fail—not to blush again. After I pay, she wraps the nightie in pink tissue paper then slides it inside a black shiny bag. With the bag in hand, I high-tail it out of the store and inhale a deep breath as soon as the fresh air hits my face. Winter in California isn’t that cold, but the cool breeze still calms the wild blush that was burning me alive.
Looking down, I remember the bag in my hand and my head swivels to take in my surroundings. What if someone recognizes me and I’m photographed with a Naughty Nothings bag? I drag a hand down my face, the one that’s not clutching a bag that contains a lifetime of fantasies.
“Damn it,” I growl to myself.
“You okay, Remy?” West is outside now, his sudden presence startling me. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
I attempt an easy smile, but surprise, it’s not easy. Instead, I calmly stick my hand in my jeans pocket and feel that familiar cool coin. The one that soothes me but makes me feel childish and stupid. Because I shouldn’t need it. A comment Amber made years ago pops into my head, and I smile, my shoulders relaxing just an inch. We were in the hallway at school, and I admitted that I thought it was dumb I needed the coin, and she didn’t even pause before reminding me that grown adults keep rubber ducks in their vehicles. I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing.
Feeling more myself now, I glance over at West, who’s staring at me with concern. He’s holding his own Naughty Nothings bag. Actually…make that several bags. This is the bad thing about teammates. We know each other a little too well for my comfort.
My eyes snap back up to his face, and he grins.
