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“You remembered?”
“I did. Like these?”
“I, um, I prefer Sketchers.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy then. I’m partial to them for hikers myself.”
She glanced down at his shoes. “Timberlands are not Sketchers.”
“I haven’t always been able to afford Tims.”
“Hmm.” She hesitantly grabbed two pairs.
Once he knew her style, he dragged down two more pairs against her multiple objections and a comfy looking pair of slip-ons for the bus. If she happened to stay longer, she’d be prepared. “Okay, now clothes.” He swung through the ladies department and stopped at bras. “Do you…”
“You are not buying me bras.”
“Why not? You can’t wear the same one for days, right? Not that I don’t enjoy the one you’re wearing.”
“It’s only two days. Well, into a third too, but barely.”
“All right.” He picked up a purple one. “This is really hot though.”
She snatched it out of his hand. “Not even close in size, buddy.” She hung it back on the hook. “These girls are not the kind you outfit at Target. They require more of a specialized place.”
He swallowed. “Well, they are very special tits.”
She flipped off the hated shoes and tugged off a pair of socks from the pack, then slid her feet into a pair of Sketchers with a deep sigh. “Now we can shop.” She lost over four inches in height, but damn, she had a swing in her ass that had been missing with the heels.
His shirt tied at her hip, the jacket he’d gotten her, and a pair of tight pants—boom—he was so done for. Add a little bounce to her step that left him hard and aching and he wished for a longer jacket for himself.
He followed her with the cart and laughed as she went through the clearance section of the store and found a pair of jeans. Instead of going to the changing room, she flipped off her new shoes and tugged them on over the leggings. She had to do this wiggle-twist thing and then damn if she didn’t pack herself into the skintight denim.
He wanted to buy her eight pairs and make her wear them every day.
She hopped over to the mirror and turned around. “Gads,” she muttered and unzipped.
“Put them in the basket,” he said hoarsely.
“What? Why? They’re too tight.”
“Just right.” He held up his hand. “Truly.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Are you all right?”
“Trust me. Buy them.”
Her lips slowly spread into a smile. She moved around the cart and came toward him. “So, you like that I look like a stuffed sausage?”
“The only sausage I’m thinking about is mine.” Fourteen-year-old response perhaps, but dang, she was hot.
Her gaze dropped to his belt and her eyelids grew heavy. “Just from seeing me in jeans that probably need to go up a size?”
“Seeing you in pretty much anything will make me pop a boner, Lo.” He yanked out his hair tie and shook out his hair in frustration. He was going a little crazy from wanting her. “Especially a lack of anything.”
“I don’t understand half the things you say, but I think I like them.” She crowded into him and tentatively touched his hair. “Your hair is longer than mine.”
He pushed it out of his face. A lot of women obsessed over his hair. He had to play it up in for photo sessions even if he wanted to shoot himself and shave his head immediately afterward.
