She glanced down at the dildo in her hand. He expected her to shove it back on the shelf, but instead she poked out her chin, held on to the thing like she was proud to be wielding it, and straightened her shoulders. “Hi.”
He strolled down the aisle toward her. “Looking for a self-defense weapon?”
She blinked, clearly not as devil-may-care as she was trying to appear. “What?”
He nodded at the pink monster dick and imitated a batting motion. “You could take someone out with one swing. Or intimidate every guy who comes near you.”
He flicked his finger against the head of the toy and it swayed back and forth in a rude, lumbering display.
She pressed her lips together, her cheeks still stained pink, but laughter entered her eyes. “I think this one is a little out of my ballpark, but they’re twenty-five percent off if you want one.”
“Nah, I’d break the bank buying enough lube to manage that one. I’ll stick with the small ones that vibrate.”
Her mouth went a little slack at that, but he figured the best way to fight off her potential embarrassment was with his shamelessness. And by the look on her face it’d worked. A brief flash of heat had lit her eyes. Good. She was probably picturing exactly what he’d do with one of those. Dirty girl. He’d happily demonstrate in person if she wanted a show. Or better yet, try one on her.
“Is that what you’re here for?” she asked in an apparent attempt to sound casual.
“Vibrating butt plugs? No. Not today. My toy box is fully stocked. I was just stopping in to say hi to a friend. The guy who owns the store is—Well, this is going to sound complicated, but he’s married to my best friend’s girlfriend’s brother.”
Oakley’s forehead scrunched like she was doing advanced math in her head. Two point three, carry the one. “Wait, the owner is gay? He said he had a wife.”
“He does. And a husband. They’re a triad, poly, whatever you’d like to label it as. Basically, three people in love and married who have a kid.”
“Wow. That sounds … complex.”
He shrugged. “Not for them. They’re like those ridiculous people in romantic movies—so shit-faced in love you want to vomit a little when you’re around them.”
She laughed and put monster dong back on the shelf. “My brother and his husband are like that. Unbearably happy. Even when they were going through the stressful process of adopting their son two years ago, they stayed so upbeat and supportive of each other. It’s freakish how well-adjusted they are. Jace seemed nice, by the way.”
“You met him?”
“He, uh, helped me earlier.”
Pike lifted a brow and leaned against the shelf. “Yeah? What’d you need help with? I could certainly offer a few opinions. Or we could just ditch the toys, and I could take you into his office to provide you with the real thing. Though, fair warning, I can’t compete with Mr. Pink here. I’m a lot warmer, though, and have better moves.”
Desire flared in her eyes for the briefest of seconds, boiling his blood, but she quickly covered it with a sardonic smile. “Now you’ve moved from flirting to outright propositioning. Not appropriate workplace behavior, Mr. Ryland.”
“You’re not on the clock right now, Miz Easton.”
“Ryland,” Jace called out from the end of the row, Foster at his side. “No hitting on the customers. My store is a safe zone.”
“What if I already know her?”
“Ma’am?” Jace asked, firm tone. “Tell me if you want him to go away, and I will take care of it.”
For a moment, she looked tempted, but she waved him off. “No, thank you. It’s fine. I do know him.”
Jace gave Pike a warning look that said don’t fuck with my customers, and Pike blew him a kiss.
Pike caught Oakley watching Jace and Foster walk away with a little too much appreciation. He shook his head. “They’re both taken, mama. You can stop staring now.”
“Are all your friends that hot? Maybe I was too quick to limit our time together. You should introduce me to more of them.” She said it so completely deadpan that he had no idea if she was fucking with him.
“Yeah? Which one does it for you? Mr. CEO or Mr. Blond Bisexual? I have a lot of friends. It’d be helpful if I could narrow down your type.”
She tapped a finger to her chin and now he knew for sure she was fucking with him. “Well, I do love a man in a suit. And dark hair really does it for me. The clean-cut type is really hot. And no tattoos because, you know, they’re dumb.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Which aisle has the floggers? I’m feeling a little violent all of a sudden.”