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“Excellent,” said Anabel, who then led the way to the shop.
Inside, the blonde grabbed a grocery basket and wandered down the first aisle, scanning the various bottles that filled the floor-to-ceiling racks. Wynter and the others trailed behind her, acting as mules to carry whatever bottles she selected.
At one point, Xavier shoved the two he was holding at Delilah and then strolled over to a very pretty assistant who’d just descended a sliding ladder. “I do not think we have met,” he said, his accent now distinctly Italian. He held out his hand. “Alessandro.”
Flushing, the girl shook it. “Posy.”
He grinned. “An unusual name, is it not?”
Wynter shook her head and turned away.
“So,” began Delilah, eyeing her with a smirk, “I heard a few thuds and moans while I was meditating yesterday. Sounded like you and Cain had a whole lot of fun christening your bed. He strikes me as a man who’s good with his hands. Am I right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
He usedeverytool in his sexual arsenal exceptionally well, not merely his hands, but Wynter wasn’t one to kiss and tell. “You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
“Oh, I do. Believe me. Any woman with a pulse would. But I need some details.”
“No, you don’t. You’re simply being nosy.”
“And you’re simply being mean by giving me nothing.”
Hattie gently nudged Wynter. “Why are you being so secretive? I never took you for a prude.”
Wynter frowned. “I’m not a prude. I merely don’t like to blab all about my sex life.”
“Whyever not?” asked Hattie. “I do it all the time.”
“And we often wish you didn’t.”
Delilah chuckled. “You do sometimes overshare, Hattie.”
The old woman sniffed. “When you reach my age you don’t bother minding your words. Too much effort. I’ve never really had a problem talking openly about sex, though. Nobody should. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. One of my husbands, Herb, blushed every time I mentioned sex. He was boring in bed. But not inotherwomen’s beds—well, metaphorical beds. He usually had sex with them in his car. His excuse for cheating on me was that a man had to treat his wife like a lady and save his darker urges for prostitutes.”
Delilah snorted. “Darker urges are the most fun.”
Hattie let out a cackle. “I can’t argue there. I’d have been happy to entertain those urges of his if he’d only given me the option.”
“How did you find out he was cheating on you?”
“Same way I found out about my other husbands. I followed him in my crow form. Not one of them noticed. Not even Herb when I shit on his head.”
Anabel turned to them. “Right, I’m done.”
They all headed to the checkout desk, where Xavier caught up to them. Apparently in a gracious mood, he grabbed all four bags. As they left the store, he waved a little slip of paper and gave them a smug smile. “I got myself a date.”
“As Xavier orAlessandro?” asked Hattie, trying and failing to replicate the accent he’d used when introducing himself to the assistant.
“Alessandro, of course. Playing the role of Italian stallion is always fun.” He slid the paper into his back pocket. “I have some Italian blood in my heritage.”
Delilah’s brows lifted. “You do?”
“Nope, not even a little,” he replied.
She flapped her arms. “Then why say it?”
“Maybe your indignation makes me feel energized.”
The two bickered as they all left the plaza and began a leisurely walk to the manor. Wynter’s step faltered as a light breeze fluttered over her skin, alerting her to … something. Instinct made her glance at a wooded area not too far away.
