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I see his point straight away. “Is that the loaner they gave you or a spare car?” I ask, noting how much smaller it is than my dad’s car.
“Loaner,” he sighs and that settles it. I’ll take him shopping. I’ll do anything if it means being around him a little longer.
I find it hard to believe he has all his clothes in a suitcase in transit somewhere, but seeing him in his suit pants and a T-shirt strikes me as something he wouldn’t usually wear at home let alone out.
“I thought you had everything tailored?” I ask him, wondering how he could just ‘shop’ for that sort of thing.
“My guy’s good,” he replies instantly. “He keeps a lot of things ready to go, only takes him a minute to throw together some outfits. I use him all the time,” he adds.
“Sounds pricey,” I add, thinking out loud and making Blake laugh quietly.
My stomach groans and I realize maybe why I’ve been a little more emotional than usual.
“We’ll get dinner too,” Blake informs me, a matter of fact.
When he’s like this he doesn’t sound rude or arrogant at all.
It’s almost like he’s just reading the world, like a manual or a set of instructions, dictating what’s going to happen next.
“Maybe we could eat first,” I suggest, feeling like I’ll fade if I have to sit through hours of a man getting tailored outfits made up.
“I’ll call the tailor on the way, just duck in and then we’ll eat. How about it?” he asks, and I feel an instant compromise.
“Sounds perfect,” I almost sigh, unable to take my eyes off his chest in that damned T-shirt, wondering why he can’t just stay wearing that and maybe nothing else.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asks me with his trademark intensity, guaranteed to make me shiver. “About being mine for the day?”
I nod without hesitation, wanting to add ‘and all night,’ but I think we’re a little way off from that just yet.
And not because of Blake Mason. No Sir.
It’s me who’s trembling in my boots, from sheer excitement with just a touch of still pinching myself.
Chapter Eight
Blake
It’s almost dark by the time we head out again.
For someone who just came ‘home,’ I’m kinda glad to see the back of the place so soon.
No slight on Krystal or her dad’s efforts at keeping a roof over their heads, but I’m used to a different type of house in a very different type of neighborhood.
Krystal deserves way better, and I’m just the man to give it to her.
If it was just my clothes I wanted, I could just go back to the airport and pick them up, but I’d rather not have to explain to Krystal why my luggage is at the airport.
And I’d rather get her away from that house, that neighborhood.
Some new things for us both are what I have in mind, and some dinner of course.
I’m hungry for more than just her too. I think we both need a decent meal after the afternoon we’ve both had.
I can appreciate Krystal showing me her underwear she bought online as well, I’d give anything to see her in just that right now. But my tailor has a wife, who runs the adjoining boutique.
I won’t say anything just now, I’ll let Krystal make her own mind up once we get there. I’m sure they can fit her out with something just as comfortable as well as some things a little more deserving of her own stunning beauty.
She seems deep in thought as we get further from her home and her neighbor’s place. She seems quieter than usual, which I put down to her maybe being hungry.
“We could grab something to snack on, before dinner,” I suggest but she doesn’t seem to mind about food all of a sudden.
“Hope it’s nowhere special,” she adds, remarking on the dinner suggestion.
“I am in just jeans and a sweater,” she reminds me.
I smile to myself, turning away slightly so she won’t catch my smile.
For now, you might be. Just for now.
Wanting to know all about her still, I start quizzing her on her studies. Her interests, which I learn are mainly based on photography.
Something I know very little about but need to act like I know something, being a phony magazine editor and all.
She becomes much more animated and I feel I’ve hit a rich stream, talking about things that interest her instead of boring everyday things.
If only she knew how much I’m struggling to keep the everyday seem that way. This is hard work so far, but well worth it.
While I listen and she drives, telling me about her most recent internship since finishing college, I text my tailor, David of David and Daphne’s.
Warning him I’m on the way and asking him to be prepared for a double appointment.
