He looked around pointedly.
Right. There was no one here to see me.
When he opened the trunk, there were clothes hooked to it in protective bags. The whole cargo area was lined with bags. Everything you would need when on the run.
“I guess we should get out of these cargo pants,” Grayson said absentmindedly, as he rummaged through the bags.
I snickered. “Do you even own anything else?” He’d been wearing nothing but cargos and black t-shirts. I couldn’t even imagine him in jeans. My own borrowed wardrobe also consisted of mostly cargo pants.
“You’d be surprised at what I own.” He wasn’t talking about clothes anymore, by the devilish look on his face.
“Pants or dress?” Before I could answer, he said, “No, I’ll choose. This.” He unhooked a protective bag from the trunk door.
I rolled my eyes at him but took it anyway. “Still no free will, I see.”
He hooked his fingers under my chin and lifted my eyes to his. Always making me look at him. Or maybe I had it wrong. Maybe he wanted tolook at me. At my eyes. “I only get to see you for a few more days. So, put the fucking dress on for me, Princess.”
I blushed and I hated it. I hated how my body instinctively leaned into him, every time he touched me. I hated how my mind went fuzzy when his eyes were on me, to the point where I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. I was twenty-seven years old, for gods’ sake. And I hated how the things he said, made me want to rip his clothes off.
I hated the chokehold this man had on me. And I hated myself for allowing it.
He handed me a box. “This is actually Hunt’s, but I guess it could work for you. Would you mind? We’re heading into town, and it’s a little too close to your home for comfort.”
It was brown hair colouring. The non-permanent ones that washes out.
“Your hair is what makes you stick out. It’s what people would remember if they saw a photo of you.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll help you,” he said, taking the dress from me and unhooking another protective clothing bag, and a duffel bag.
We headed into the women’s bathroom, which was relatively clean for a gas station. Grayson slid the stick of a mop into the door handle so no one could open it. He placed a towel he took from the duffel bag over my shoulders and gently loosened my braid. The feel of his fingers through my hair made me shudder. Embarrassingly, I suddenly understood why cats purred.
With some less than graceful manoeuvring, Grayson rinsed the solution from my hair in the basin. He was in a stall getting changed while I stared at myself in the mirror, struggling to adjust to the new me. Grayson came out and stood behind me.
“Still beautiful.” He smiled and moved to kiss my temple, but decided against it, his eyes going weary. “Get dressed, Princess. I have work to do.” He quickly hid whatever he felt behind a smirk and left.
I took the dress from the cover. It was a beautiful, long sleeved, wine-coloured dress. I turned in the mirror, admiring it on me. I had to give it to Gemma. The girl had style. Although it was a bit tight for my liking, it hugged my body perfectly before it flared out at my hips, stopping mid-thigh. The deep red would have complemented my copper hair perfectly. The knee-high boots were a bit much for a day look, but it was that or hiking boots.
I also took out Gemma’s makeup bag from the duffel and did what I could. Lastly, I added some dark red lipstick that was the same colour as my dress, which I was sure was no coincidence. I ruffled my still damp hair to accentuate the curls before I walked out. If Grayson wanted me all dressed up and pretty, why not take his breath away?
And I did. At least that’s what he said as I handed him the bags.
“You are breathtaking,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over me, oh so slowly. Heat bloomed wherever his eyes fell. “It’s a shame you hide all this beauty in little Bentley Cove.”
I blushed. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” was an understatement. He looked so handsome in his rolled up, long sleeved, button-down shirt that it almost hurt. I was probably staring again.
We were on the road again, but not before Grayson bought my snacks at the gas station shop. The town came into view an hour before sunset. We stopped in a street lined with shops.
“There,” Grayson pointed to one of the larger buildings up the street.
A large orange and black sign, read “XtraSpace” above the doors. “You’re robbing a storage facility?” I guessed.
“This one caters specifically to businesses. And there is a box of things stored in there that I need.”
“For what?” I don’t know why I asked. I never get straight answers anyway.
“Forwhom,” he corrected, surprising me. “I’m trading it for information.”
