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“It’s a thrift store,” I say, as if she doesn’t know where she was going to end up even though she typed the address into the map. “You don’t have to buy clothes from here. You can pick anywhere.”
“I figured no one would complain when I wasn’t really given a choice about going shopping. Honestly, Emmett, this is where I’d go even if I weren’t a charity case.”
“You’re not… Let’s go.” I’m not going to argue with her, but I wait for her to open her door before reaching into the glove box and pulling out a handgun.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Better safe than sorry,” I mutter, sounding more like my dad than I like.
She shrugs, climbing the rest of the way out of the SUV. She waits near the hood while I conceal the weapon and join her.
Out of instinct, I press my hand to her lower back, refusing to look down at her when she tilts her head up at me. I also refuse to consider just how perfectly she tucks into my side. I have no business considering a damn thing where this woman is concerned.
“Are you scared?” she teases as I place myself between her and a guy sitting on the curb near the entrance. “You’re acting like a bodyguard.”
“You’re the one that chose this part of town,” I mutter, pulling the door open with my free arm, torn between walking inside ahead of her like I should to assess the danger, and sticking to her back so the guy on the curb can’t get to her.
I opt to put myself between her and the known danger, letting her walk ahead of me. I run into her back when she pauses just inside the door so she can look around the store.
She has a smile on her face, her eyes wide like she’s stepping into an amusement park rather than a place that smells musty and is cluttered with the things every other sane person has discarded from their lives.
Before she can tip over from me running into her, I reach my arm around her, preventing her from falling. Instead of stepping away, she turns her face up toward me, looking a little over her shoulder. I feel like an asshole when my fingers flex against her lower belly before I take a step back.
“You’re sure you can find something here?” I ask, ripping my eyes away from her to scan the disorderly store.
“I know I’ll find more than I could ever need,” she says rather than challenging me about what just happened.
I wave my arm out in front of me, indicating that she should get to work.
At second glance, I see signs hanging from the ceiling, indicating where certain things are. I don’t hover when she heads toward the section labeled WOMEN’S CLOTHING, but I also don’t allow much distance between the two of us.
I’m not a snob. I don’t have an issue with people buying things secondhand, but this part of town isn’t exactly known as being a safe area. I’m well aware that crime can happen anywhere, but this part of Farmington has a reputation.
I stay at the end of each aisle that she goes in, all the while wondering if she even has a clue what she should do if someone came through the front door brandishing a weapon. I seriously doubt she’s been given any formal training, but with the nature of the world these days, I also have no doubt she went through active shooter drills in high school, as fucked up as that is.
When she starts to look burdened by the clothes in her arms, I head to the front, nodding a hello at the woman sitting behind the counter looking bored as I grab a shopping cart for her.
I can’t see anyone else in the store, but there are some shelving units in the far back corner that could be hiding other employees or patrons. The lack of witnesses makes the bump and rattle of the decrepit cart no less embarrassing as I push it closer to her.
She thanks me as I slide the cart toward her, placing the growing pile of clothes inside.
“That’s a men’s shirt,” I say, pointing at the striped button-down on top before looking around again. “This is the men’s section.”
“You didn’t seem like the type of guy that had hardened views on gendered clothing until just now. Then again, the way you looked at my dress earlier—”
“Get whatever you want,” I say before she can vocalize her thoughts any further.
I knew she was too astute to miss the way my eyes dropped to her thighs in the truck earlier.
I try to distract myself with anything else, but of course she draws all my attention. I pull my eyes from her long enough to follow the shadow of the man out front as he stands up and starts to head away from the front door, but a second later, I’m looking at her again.
