“Let’s all remember that. Okay, do me a favor?”
“If I can.”
“I’ve got that five riding with Bran that I can get our new girl in, outfitted, and out inside twenty minutes. Help me keep it moving, will you?”
“Sure. What are friends for?” Frowning now, she watched the chickens strut around—and stare at the humans, she thought, with tiny eyes. “I don’t know how to feed chickens. Or get eggs from them.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riley lost the bet. Despite the team effort, it took twice the time she’d calculated to outfit Annika in practical hiking-wear. She figured she could’ve gotten herself in and out in a fraction of that time, but then again, she didn’t insist on touching every freaking thing first.
Bran simply held out his hand, and she slapped five euros into it. And found it hard to bitch too much as he took out a credit card to pay for Annika’s boots and shoes, and the hat he’d snagged for Sasha, as it matched the one she’d drawn on herself in her dream sketch.
“You rich, Irish?”
“I’ve enough to cover this. And with what we’ve locked away, she’s more than good for it.” He glanced over to see Annika holding up a bright pink rash guard, turning this way and that in the mirror while Sawyer just grinned at her.
“Better get her out of here before she decides she needs to try on another two dozen things.”
“God, you’d think we were trolling at Saks instead of a sporting goods store. Hey, princess! Let’s move out.”
“Can we get more? Do they have earrings? I like earrings.”
“Some other time. Some help here, Sawyer.”
They flanked her, maneuvered her—now clad in boots, cargoes, T-shirt, vest, and hat—to the door.
“I can pitch in with this.” Sasha moved up behind Bran.
“Quicker this way, and we can sort it all out later.” He picked up the hat, settled it on her head. “Suits you. Why don’t you go make sure Annika doesn’t drag them into another shop?”
Maybe he was the fáidh, Sasha thought as Annika was indeed trying to negotiate her way into a gift shop with a display window full of trinkets.
“We’ll come back.” Going the direct route, Sasha grabbed Annika’s hand and tugged.
“I like shopping. There are so many pretty things.” She frowned down at her boots as they walked to the car. “The boots are not pretty.”
“Neither is twisting an ankle on a rough trail,” Riley declared, and let out a whoosh of relief when they piled in the jeep with Sasha and Sawyer sandwiching Annika between them in the back.
Bran came out, stowed the bags, dropped into the passenger seat.
“Thank you for all my things, even the boots.”
Riley punched it, headed out of the village.
“We may have to look into a bigger ride,” Sawyer called out over the wind.
“I’ve got plenty of room.” Riley flicked a glance in the rearview mirror, smirked.
“If we do find the guy in Sasha’s sketch, no way he’s going to fit in here.”
“We haven’t found him yet. Any feel on that, Sash?”
“I just know we will.” She watched the world rush by, and thought how quickly she’d grown used to Riley’s speedy driving. “He rides a dragon.”
“A what now?”