I nearly say,you’re not the only one, but the sharp gasp she sucks in reveals she found my treasure trove of goodies. “Oh my god. I know I’ve had a baby, but I still don’t think that will fit.”
The store clerk shushes me when I throw my head back and laugh.
After giving her a glare that involves a screwed-up nose and a poked-out tongue, I say, “Believe me, with the right amount of lube, and the correct tilt of your hips, that bad boy will fit in any hole you want him to fit.”
Some of the tension I was hoping to relieve during my trip expels when the store clerk huffs loudly before pivoting on her heels and darting to the manager.Good luck, sweetheart, I spend the equivalent of your annual wage in this store every month, so the chances of having me tossed to the curb are slim to none.
I want to throw myself out when my pivot has me crashing into a wall of hardness. It isn’t the man’s packed gun smacking into my nose fueling my desire to flee. It’s his manly, virile smell. I’ve only smelled that scent once before. It was on a man who couldn’t afford the cologne he was wearing.
With a roll of my shoulders and a stern warning that I’m not a daft wallflower, I raise my eyes to the person I’ve bumped into. The blond hair, blue eyes, and razor-sharp jaw I’m anticipating reflect back at me, they’re just on a slightly more mature face.
“Grayson, hi.”
“Who’s Grayson?” Raquel whispers down the line. “Is he hot? From the way your tone dipped and your breathing became non-existent, I’m assuming he’s hot. Is he?”
I hold my finger in the air to request a minute before shifting my focus back to my cell. “I have to go. I’ll call you tonight. Give Axel a kiss for me.”
“What. No—”
The rest of Raquel’s demand is lost when I disconnect our call before sliding my phone into my clutch purse.
“Sorry about that.” I nudge my head to the clerk who is once again stationed at the sales counter she was manning earlier, minus the pompous glare she once had. “I was just—”
“Giving her a taste of her own medicine?” Grayson interrupts.
I nod. “Pretty much so.”
“Good. She deserves it. I’ve been waiting to be served the last ten minutes, but since I’m not wearing a suit and tie, supposedly my money is no good here.”
The tick in his jaw is cute. He’s a lot like his brother. Down to earth, focused, and confident enough he doesn’t need a suit to gain the ladies’ attention. Just the thirty seconds we’ve been interacting, I’ve been issued four warning glares. The women of New York are on the hunt, and I’m sheltering their prey.
Happy to be on the receiving end of vicious glares from worthy opponents for a change, I lean my hip on the counter Grayson is standing next to before raising my eyes to his. “What are you after? A new Christmas tie? Flip flops? Or sunglasses that will make you look like a speed dealer?”
“I can get those here?” Grayson’s lips quirk when I nod. “Damn, and all this time I was subjecting myself to malls overrun with teens and cranky middle-aged women whose husbands can’t get them off.”
His reply eases the tension boiling between us. He’s not going to bring up Alex, and neither am I, so I can help him with his dilemma and not feel guilty.
“Alright, spill the beans. What are you really after?”
A smell I’ve missed the past twelve months filters into my nose when Grayson waves a business card in front of my face. “I’m trying to identify this scent. Rumor is it’s only sold here.”
I glare at him, shocked. “What’s so important about that smell?”Besides the fact it’s your brother’s cologne?
Grayson taps his index finger on his nose. I want to pretend his quest is more sinister than it is, but for all I know, he could merely be buying his brother a Christmas gift.
Pretending I can’t feel bile burning my throat, I signal for assistance. Although disgruntled, the store clerk arrives in front of us two seconds later.
“My friend would like to purchase a bottle of this cologne.” I snatch the business card from Grayson’s hand before waving it under the clerk’s nose, barely catching the name on the card before Grayson secures it back in his hand: Col Petretti.
While the clerk moves to a glass cabinet in the far back, my mind runs wild. Why would Grayson have a card from Col Petretti, much less one with his brother’s scent on it? Col Petretti isn’t a nice man. He’s the mobster who’s been striving to get a foothold into Ravenshoe the past three years. It is only Isaac’s friendship with a much more revered member of Col’s association that has stopped it from happening.
Before I can answer half the questions in my head, the clerk returns to the counter with a large, fancy-looking box of cologne in her hands. She doesn’t set it down. The four-figure price tag on the top ensures she won’t relinquish it from her grip without a credit card being handed over.
She does exactly that when I slide my platinum no-limit credit card across the glass countertop. With the skip of a woman about to get a big tip, she processes my credit card as I gather the box in my hands.
“Are you sure it’s the right one. . .?”
Grayson’s words trail off when I pop open the lid of the Clive Christian X cologne I just purchased. There is no denying that smell. It is rich and pungent, and swirls my stomach with so much unease, my heart speaks before my head can stop it. “How can your brother afford such an expensive bottle of cologne?”
