If I met him even a singular month ago, I’d be duped. I’d believe he’s actuallyinlovewith me, in some kind of deep or real way. Alas. It’s been one week and barely a handful of days since we’ve had any chance to get to know one another. And I don’t care how good he is at acting, love takes longer to ferment than sourdough.
Skimming the racks in the woman’s section, he removes a pure white sleeveless dress with a billowing, beautiful skirt. “Put this on for me. I’ll see if my clothes are still around while you do.”
I glance at the tag. “This is Ralph Lauren.”
“Is it?”
“It’s four hundred dollars.”
“Your point?”
“What if I try it on andlikeit? I’m still recovering financially from my impulse casket buy.”
“That’s fine. I’m not.”
My brows elevate. “Are you…implying that you’d buy me a dress? After I’ve coerced you into the purchase of amore vampiric outfitfor yourself?” I wiggle a finger at him and his attire. “All that is probably over a hundred dollars, too. The shirt definitely looks expensive. And fitted men’s pants can’t be cheap.”
He looks down. “I don’t think these are fitted. I don’t think anything in this store can truly, properly, be consideredfitted.”
“Oh?” Is that right? Well. “They fit you very nicely. I’m shocked they had your height in stock.”
Bemused, Dominic regards me. “I’m a regular size and height for men.”
I glance across his broad chest at the way the shirt tapers off his shoulders, which implies it’s for someone with more gut than he possesses. I like the loose-fit since it’s giving Westley—fromPrincess Bride—era linen male garments, but I’m pretty sure he had to unbutton the collar in order to survive the strain his shoulders are putting on the material. “Are…you?”
“Yes.”
Huh.
Tenderness melts into him. “You’re stalling. My other clothes might not still be there if you keep stalling.”
I tangle my fingers behind my back and gaze blamelessly past the brim of this hat. “It’s not my fault you got me attached to the idea of you hopping up on the clerk’s counter to get the security tag evicted.”
His thumb and forefinger locate my chin, forcing my attention back to his crimson face. “Come now, little lotus. Behave yourself.”
Now that…thatgets my heart to do athing. “Lotus?”
“A summer flower. An unblemished symbol of purity. It’s saintly.” His tongue dampens his bottom lip as his gaze trails to my neck, and he turns my chin to more properly view my pulse. “And, also, one hundred percent edible.”
Oh…my…word.
“Dominic?”
“Yes, little lotus?” hepurrs.
Manic swells in my chest. “I mean no offense, but…were you a theater kid?”
He clears his throat, and the spell breaks. “N-no. I was…”
“You were…”
His gaze trails off me, then he pulls his touch free, too. “A mathlete.”
A…mathlete?
Forgive me, sir, but whence did thy manner come? Nary a soul obtains this much rizz within the confines of numerical calculation.
My head tilts, and the hat falls off my head.
