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“I’ll do this as a test run. We’ll see how it goes.” She fist pumped, then popped me with the towel. “I’m excited for you. Saint has always intrigued me. Y’all will be cute together.”
On that last comment, she turned to survey the door as something caught her eye.
I turned and looked over my shoulder, my breath hitching in my throat when I saw Saint jogging across the parking lot toward us.
I moaned when I saw that he was wearing sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a t-shirt.
“I swear to God,” she said as she sidled up next to me as we both watched the magnificent man move. “They have to know what sweatpants do to us.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips.
“I think they have to have an idea what it does to us,” I admitted. “Why else would they wear them out in public?”
“What are y’all talking about?” Connor asked as he came back to the counter for more napkins.
“Sweatpants and why men wear them,” Dillan answered as she turned to look at him. “Do y’all like wearing sweatpants? Do you have ulterior motives when you wear them?”
Connor looked confused. “Ulterior motives? What?”
Dillan and I started to snicker as the door clanged with Saint’s arrival.
He took a look around, pulling his Ray-Ban sunglasses off as he did, switching out with his prescription glasses.
His eyes swept the room, casing it to scan for threats.
And it was no surprise when his eyes found me instantly once he was done.
I grinned wickedly huge at him and started forward, completely dismissing Dillan without even a goodbye.
Saint’s smile was nothing less than breathtaking when he saw me.
The moment I got within reaching distance, he pulled me in close by the strings of my sweatshirt, then dropped a kiss onto my upturned mouth.
“I was looking for that sweatshirt this morning,” he said as he tugged the strings, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. “Convenient that I find you wearing it.”
Mmmm, his glasses really did it for me.
I blinked innocently at him.
“You could’ve taken it home with you last night,” I teased.
He pulled back and looked over his shoulder at Dillan.
“Hey, Dillan,” he said.
Dillan waved. “Hi, Saint. Do you want some coffee? A donut?”
He looked at the donuts longingly. “I shouldn’t.”
She rolled her eyes and went behind the counter.
“Come choose your poison.” She waved her hand.
Saint let me go, pecked me on the lips, and then walked to the counter to grab some food and a drink.
I went back to my brothers, who were both glaring hard at me.
Knowing what they were going to say, I chose to change the subject instead.
“What did y’all get Mom and Dad for Christmas?” I paused. “What did you get me for Christmas?”
Connor and Clayton looked at each other.
“Well,” Clayton hedged. “We were going to go after work.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“The only place you could go that would be even remotely something we wanted would be a jewelry store,” I said. “And that doesn’t count for Dad. Dad wouldn’t want jewelry.” I paused. “Jewelry stores close at five today.”
The two brothers looked at each other, and I wanted to punch them both in the throat.
“I’d just like to point out now that the Walmart gift basket that you got last minute last year is still sitting in Mom’s bathroom, unopened, never to even be opened. Don’t waste your money on another one,” I told them point-blank.
“What happened to yours?” Connor asked, narrowing his eyes.
He wasn’t narrowing his eyes at me, though. He was narrowing his eyes at Saint who’d pulled up a chair next to me and sat down with what looked to be an egg white sandwich and a cup of black coffee.
“I gave it away over New Year’s. At the company white elephant gift exchange,” I told him.
“You regifted our present to you?” Clayton asked in mock outrage.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry to say, but you don’t even know me. I know you know I have skin allergies. I can’t use scented stuff very often, and I for sure wouldn’t risk putting Walmart gift basket scented crap on my skin. I’d probably break out in hives and have to spend the holiday in the ER.”
“What do you use?” Saint asked curiously.
“I have to buy this really expensive skin cream from Sephora,” I admitted. “It costs a whack but works really well.”
“What’s Sephora?” Clayton asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his coffee.
“Sephora is a beauty line. The Sephora here is actually in JC Penney’s,” I answered as I looked at Saint as he bit into his egg white sandwich.
It looked disgusting.
No wonder the man had abs.
“Well I’m not shelling out a whack for you for beauty products,” Connor supplied. “I don’t even like you that much.”
I kicked him under the table, causing him to laugh.
Connor’s eyes turned to assess Saint.
