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“And what did you get?” she asks, changing the subject. “Can a man your size get anything here?”
I shake my head, smiling. “The guy at the watch counter said there’s a big guy store nearby. But I don’t have to—,” I tell her. But her mind’s made up.
“Then let’s go. Let me see Ethan Silverthorne in jeans and a sweater instead of a tailored suit.”
“What’s wrong with my suit?” I ask, pretending to sound wounded.
But I know what Krissy means.
There’s no need to be dressed at all around her, let alone look like I’m on my way to a board meeting.
“Only if you have everything you want,” I remind her.
And feeling her leaning into me again, I know both of us have all we really need with each other.
But I have to admit I do like watching Krissy pick out new clothes, bags, shoes…anything.
“Maybe we could get matching outfits?” I joke, wondering how I’d look in a pair of low-cut jeans and a hoodie.
Nowhere near as good as she does…
“You wanna see the dress I picked?” she asks, but I shake my head, not meaning to make her pout.
“Surprise me,” I whisper, already counting the moments. Then, I catch glimpses of what she’s picked out as the store clerk returns to start bagging everything up.
“I’ve left my suite details, so our things will be sent straight up,” I let Krissy know, and she asks me if it’s okay if she wears what she has on out for the rest of the day.
Her work clothes are not required anymore.
Not today or any other day, I’m hoping.
“You don’t need to ask me,” I tell her.
“You’re my lucky charm…you can do and wear whatever you want. And I do love your outfit,” I tell her again, kissing the top of her head before I settle the bill and we head out of the store.
Feeling like royalty by the way the staff thank us and assure us they’ll have everything sent up as soon as possible.
Krissy spots the gift bags on the watch counter before we leave, asking me if I bought myself something nice too.
“I guess we’ll both just have to wait,” I murmur, teasing her with a little bit of my own secrecy.
“C’mon,” I coax her, gripping her hip with my hand.
“Let’s get me into something more casual and then some food in our bellies.
“How many times a day do you eat?” she asks but seems to re-think her statement as she eyes me up and down as we walk.
“Never mind,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Big man, big fuel tank, right?” she asks once we’re a little further along.
And big everything else.
“You got it,” I agree with her aloud. “I eat whenever I’m hungry, and being with you? Well, it sure does work up a man’s appetite.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Krissy
I’m beyond shocked at the final bill but remember that nothing in the store actually had a price tag.
One of those high-end goods things, I guess.
You don't need to see the prices if you’re rich enough to shop here.
I want to feel bad about it, but only out of habit.
I’ve never had anyone spend money on me. And the eye-watering amount just for clothes and whatever else he purchased is more than I’d make in a year if I was lucky.
“Maybe we should’ve come here first,” I quip once we reach the not-so-high-end big guy store.
U.S-made jeans and boots, cotton shirts and T-shirts….
Ethan seems more at home here than at the designer boutique, and I can’t help but feel awkward again when I see everything here has a price tag.
I try to tell myself I’ll pay Ethan back somehow. But with my uniform gone and the work at the casino fast becoming a distant memory, I know that won’t work either.
“It’s just clothes, Krissy,” Ethan reminds me, reading my thoughts. “But if it makes you feel any better, my regular tailor makes even that boutique look like a dollar store.” He smiles, laughing at his own joke.
But I only gulp harder, the idea of so much money already weighing on my mind for some reason.
Probably because I’ve never had any of my own, and today I don’t either.
I just wish there was something I could get him…
While Ethan tries on some jeans, I decide to ask one of the store clerks if I can pick something to put on the bill without Ethan knowing.
“Oh, you wanna surprise your dad, huh? Well, I guess that’s alright.” He smiles, cheerful enough until he sees my expression.
“Um… Ethan’s not my dad,” I tell him hotly, and he instantly joins the dots, giving me a look that begs me not to repeat what he just said.
But it’s too late.
Ethan has re-emerged from his changing room. He has his cell and a stack of jeans in one hand. His dark look is only made worse because I know he heard it all himself.
