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I didn’t react other than saying, “Fine, but you’re coming with me to shop.”
“You’re a big boy. You can do it by yourself.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. If you’re going to be the boss of this, own the title. I’m not risking ending up in the emergency room because I had the wrong shoes on.”
She sulked a little, but said, “Fine. Meet me there in an hour. I’ve gotta take breakfast back, and then we’re getting your burly ass in a pair of Wranglers.”
I shook my head at her. “How much do you love this?”
Her smile widened. “So, so much. See you in an hour, rube.”
Before I could think of something clever to say, she pushed off the booth and headed for the counter where a waitress met her behind the register with a couple of bags of food. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Jo. She wore a navy T-shirt with the Cub Scout logo big on the front and a pair of frayed cutoffs just long enough to cover her ass. She was strong, her arms trim and thighs toned, too fair for a deep golden tan, only a sun-kissed glow.
And I realized with no small certainty that I was going to enjoy myself with her thoroughly.
An hour and a half later, I stood in a dressing room that smelled like leather, listening to Garth Brooks over tinny speakers, and frowning like a son of a bitch in my underwear at the clothes Jo had picked out. They hung on the wall like a curtain of hell made of denim and plaid.
“Quit pouting and put those Wranglers on,” she commanded from the chairs just outside.
“I don’t pout,” I said, reaching for a pair of stiff, dark wash jeans.
“Have you ever even worn jeans?”
“Of course I have.”
“What’d they ever do to you?”
“Besides being coarse and unforgiving?”
A pause. “What kind of places do you get your jeans from?”
“Nowhere like this.” I stepped into one leg, then the other.
“I can’t imagine being a little kid and having to wear khaki and slacks all the time. Didn’t your mama ever send you outside to play?”
I pulled them over my ass and immediately felt constricted “She’s dead. So, no.”
A pregnant silence. “I … I’m sorry, Grant.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t know her.”
“Still, she … she was your mother. Couldn’t have been easy not to have her.”
“Hard to miss what you never had,” I deflected. I buttoned the fly, turning three-quarters to look down my silhouette. And hot damn.
“Are you and your dad close?” she asked.
An unbidden laugh puffed out of me. “No.”
“That was definitive.”
“He’s a definitive asshole.”
“Oh. Do you have siblings? Any other family?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re alone?” Her tone was gentle, sad.
“It sounds an awful lot like you’re pitying me,” I warned, turning in the mirror.
“I’m sorry—I don’t mean to. It’s just that my mama and sisters are the best thing in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without them, and when I thought about it just now, it made me sad.”
The rock in my chest warmed and softened at the earnestness in her voice. “Don’t be sorry. But don’t be sad either. Look at what a successful adult I am—I can afford that car you hate so much and an apartment in Georgetown that’s so bougie, you wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”
“But who do you have?”
The question slithered under my skin, wrinkling me up. In my desperation to change the subject, I decided for guerrilla tactics, reaching for the door handle.
When I stepped into the waiting area in nothing but a pair of ungodly tight Wranglers, she shut up, though her mouth didn’t close. It hung open like a trout as she scanned my naked torso, the hem of denim low on my waist, the shapes of my thighs on down to my bare feet.
“They’re too long,” I said, turning to look in a mirror behind me so I could discreetly knock her on her ass at the sight of mine.
I snuck a glimpse at her in the mirror as I pretended to mess with my hair, pleased to find her dangerously close to drooling. Her tongue slid out of her mouth to wet her lips.
My jeans got a little tighter.
She cleared her throat and sat up, averting her eyes. “They’re not too long—they’re meant to be worn with boots. Did you try on one of the shirts?”
“Not yet. Wanted to make sure the pants were right.”
“Oh, they’re right,” she said salaciously, catching herself with a laugh. “Seriously—go put a shirt on. I’m gonna find you some boots.”
I shook my head, turning for the dressing room, muttering, “How the fuck did I let you talk me into this?”
“Because you think you’re so smart, and you’d do anything to prove it. Even let me dress you up like a real-live cowboy.”
