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“That’s because some asshole kissed them.”
Leaving me with a shrug, I watch him stride out the door. With a huff, I grab my expensive bag and reluctantly follow him out. When I get to the car, he holds out a cup toward me. I study it for a moment, then raise my eyes to his, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s for your hangover. Drink it.”
“It probably has poison in it,” I say, scrunching my nose and refusing to take whatever that is from him.
“Are you allergic to anything?” he asks.
What type of question is that?
“No, are you?”
“Yes, actually. Shellfish. Now, drink it.” Rolling my eyes, I take it, and he starts the car and pulls out onto the street. The first sip isn’t all that bad—I’m not sure what it is, but it tastes okay. He stops, pulls up to the main shopping area, and parks the car.
“What’s this?”
“Beds. We need new ones.” He gets out, and I look at the furniture store in front of us. I climb out of the car, then toss the remainder of my drink in the trash as he walks through the door.
“Hi, how can I help you today?”
Grayson doesn’t respond to the sale associate, so she turns her attention to me.
“We need a few beds. What are some of the best ones you have?”
“Any kind in particular?” she asks.
“Yes, ones that you can tie your partner to,” I answer.
Grayson turns back and looks at me with a smile.
The sales associate’s expression gives away her shock before she nods and says, “Follow me.” She leads us to a bed with four posts.
Grayson nods. “I’ll take it,” he tells her.
The sales lady looks at us, surprised. “Will that be all?” she asks.
“No, we need a few more. Any others you recommend?” he asks, as my stomach growls loudly. Grayson shoots me a look.
“What? You made me come here and didn’t bother feeding me first.” I purse my lips.
He goes off with the sales associate as I sit on one of the beds. I lie back, and just as I’m about to doze off, his hand lands on my thigh, shaking me. “Get up.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl before getting up and following him out.
Grayson doesn’t speak when we get back in the car, which is fine with me. He drives us to a restaurant, where the valet takes his keys as he walks around to my side of the car. “Get out,” he orders.
“You are so demanding and so damn annoying,” I tell him, but I do as he says.
A hostess seats us, and I look at the menu as he sits across from me.
“I’ll have the oysters.” I smile, knowing he’s allergic.
Grayson orders the steak and looks back at me. “She’ll have the same,” he tells the waitress.
“Plus the oysters,” I add. The waitress nods and walks off. “Why did you kiss me?” I ask him.
“Lapse of judgment. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.”
