“Sutton thinks I need new clothes.”
“Oh, do you?” she asked innocently. “I thought you dressed like this on purpose.”
“How do I dress?”
“It’s a hardcore shabby chic...without the chic.” She gestured at the worn leather jacket and ripped denim, but refrained from including the wild hair escaping its braid and the goggles on his chest. Then there were his cold blue eyes. His uncivilized air. His height. His build. There was no way to make this man blend in.
“I detest shopping, so I brought you to do it for me. Be grateful I don’t wander around naked.”
“Grateful isn’t the word I’d use,” she murmured.
“What did you say?”
“What kind of clothes are you looking for?” she said quickly.
He shrugged. “What I have, but newer.”
“Where do you normally shop?”
A couple unwittingly walked too close, and Severin straightened where he stood, then angled himself to shield Minnow, looking ready to deal with a threat. The couple glanced up then hurried off.
“I don’t know. I think I got these from Church for Christmas a few years ago.”
She snorted then realized he wasn’t joking. “Don’t rich people shop at boutiques rather than the mall?”
“How would I know? I never got lessons in how to be rich. It’s surprisingly unintuitive.” His tone was joking, but there was something jagged at the heart of it.
“Well, if you’re looking for help spending money, I’m your girl,” she said lightly. “Let’s start with a jeans store. What size are you?”
“I’d have to look at the tag on these.”
“Those don’t fit!” Minnow laughed and led the way into the store behind him.
He looked down at himself. “They stay up fine with a belt.” He tapped the buckle, and she had trouble dragging her gaze away.
“Can I help you?” a young saleswoman asked, looking directly at Minnow. From the stiff way she held herself and the way she ducked her head she was more than aware of Severin, she just knew better than to look a beast in the eye.
“There’s nothing wrong with belts,” Severin continued, as though he hadn’t noticed the saleswoman walk over to them. “You seemed to like mine just fine the other day.”
The saleswoman turned a violent shade of crimson.
Was it hot in the store? It was hot in the store. Minnow resisted the urge to fan herself, and noticed the saleswoman wouldn’t meet her gaze anymore either. Great.
Minnow frowned at Severin, and the corner of his mouth twitched. The bastard.
“My friend here needs jeans, and he has no idea what size he is.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. “My service dog here probably knows better than I do.”
Was that innuendo? The saleswoman sure thought it was.
“Stop it,” Minnow warned under her breath. “You’re embarrassing the poor woman.”
“What?” he whispered back in that non-whisper men with big voices thought was quiet but really just drew more attention to what they were saying. “What did I say?”
She smacked his arm and his expression grew menacing.
Shit. No touching. She grabbed her own offending hand, feeling as if it had gotten away on her. “Sorry. I forgot.”