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Jeremy made a face. “Those are hideous.”

“I don’t care. Feel how warm they are.” I shoved my gloved hand in his face. “Feel it.”

He batted my hand away, laughing. “They’re still ugly.”

“They’re practical.”

“They’re hideous.”

“Warmth over style, Blackwell. That’s my motto for this trip.”

We found thick wool socks in a variety of colors. A cozy fleece-lined beanie that made me look like a college student but kept my ears toasty.

I added the accessories and a pair of thermal underwear to the pile on top of the coat I was absolutely buying.

“I’m not being seen with you if you wear that,” Jeremy complained. “We’ll go to another store. We’ll find something else.”

“That coat is going to Alaska with me. Or I can just stay here.”

Jeremy groaned but didn’t argue further. He knew when he was beaten.

The final piece was the boots. The saleswoman brought out several options, but I knew the moment I saw them. Tall, insulated, with a thick rubber sole and a faux-fur lining that peeked out at the top. They were sturdy and practical and absolutely gorgeous.

I slipped them on and walked around the store, testing the comfort and warmth. They were perfect.

“These,” I said. “These are the ones.”

Jeremy nodded approvingly. “Those I can get behind. You look like a sexy snow adventurer.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

We brought everything to the register. The pile was significant. When the saleswoman started ringing it up, I reached for my wallet.

“Put that away,” Jeremy said.

“I’m not interested in a felony theft charge and I don’t think this nice woman wants to give me the stuff.”

“I’m paying.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not. This is too much.”

“It’s a tax write-off, right?” He handed his black card to the saleswoman before I could argue further.

I stared at him. “What do you know about tax write-offs?”

“Nothing.” He grinned. “That’s why you do my taxes for me.”

“I absolutely do not do your taxes.”

He paused, card still extended. “You don’t?”

“No. I manage your career, not your finances.”

“Huh.” He looked genuinely confused. “Well, someone’s doing them.”

“I would hope so. You’d be in prison otherwise.”

I made a mental note to make sure he had an accountant doing taxes. I was his business manager but I didn’t handle his personal finances. Shit. He could be in real trouble.