“How did you know that was my size?” I asked, motioning to the boots. I intentionally declined to comment on the fact that the clothes in there actually were cool, though nothing I’d have picked for myself.
All she gave me was a shrug and a smirk.
“I don’t need boots,” I bitched quietly, so the sales chick didn’t hear me and attempted to take them from her to put them back.
“I’m buying,” she insisted, then paused and smacked her forehead. “Crap! I don’t have my wallet.”
It was my turn to grab her clothes. On the way to the register, I dropped off the fucking boots I didn’t need. After setting the rest on the counter, I turned to her while pulling out my wallet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”
“I’m paying you back,” she insisted, hands propped on her hips.
I huffed a laugh. “Sure you are.”
“I will!”
Stubbornly, I leaned forward until our noses nearly touched. “I don’t want you to,” I said, almost against her lips. Lips I was tempted to trail my tongue over, then slip inside.
Fuck.
Ridiculously turned on, I stood up and moved back.
“Will this be all?” the tiny redhead at the register asked as she stared at me with fuck-me eyes. She bit her lip as she shot me a coy grin. Truthfully, I wanted to roll my eyes because she was probably barely twenty.
The next thing I knew, Sloane was stepping in front of me and leaning back into my chest. “Yes, that will be all,” she replied to the cashier. “Honey? I forgot my wallet,” she said over her shoulder to me. Her big icy-blue eyes gazed up at me, then she blinked dramatically.
It took everything I had not to laugh, but a smirk slipped out. My little witchy woman was jealous.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
Sloane Fontenot wasnotmy woman—witchy or otherwise. Despite the crazy story her family had her believing.
Forcing a stern frown to stay in place on my damn face, I paid cash for the clothes and grabbed the bag. Placing my hand at the small of her back, I guided her out of the store. We made a brief stop at the bike to stash our purchases in the saddlebag, then went next door to the Dollar General.
“Remember, I only have one other saddlebag, so we need to be selective of what we buy,” I reminded her. She gave me a distracted nod as she combed through the shelves grabbing small but odd items, and dropped them in her basket.
“I can carry what doesn’t fit,” she absently told me.
“The fuck you are! I don’t have a sissy rest. You’re hanging the fuck on,” I barked. Shaking my head, I followed along behind her and picked up several items. A small backpack was another of her choices. She gave me a smug grin, and I rolled my eyes. When she was done gathering up whatever the hell shit she needed, we got a few more things to hold us over and went through the checkout.
We stashed our recent purchases in the other saddlebag. Backtracking, we stopped by the clubhouse to drop off our purchases and change. When she walked out of the room in jeans that hugged her every curve perfectly, boots, and the hoodie layered with the denim jacket, I had to adjust my junk.
“What?” she asked as she finished pulling her hair through a hairband.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
Before we left, she put her arms through the straps of the empty backpack. Thumbs hooked around the straps, she waited while I checked my phone and shot off a message to Voodoo asking if he’d heard back from anyone. When he replied that he hadn’t, I put my phone in the inside pocket of my jacket.
“You sure you don’t want my jacket?” I asked one last time. It was leather and likely warmer than what she’d bought.
“I’m good,” she assured me.
Once we were out and the gate was secured, I followed the directions on my phone. It wasn’t long before I turned into a self-storage facility. When I stopped by the keypad, she reached over and entered a code, allowing the automatic gate to roll open.
“Take a right at the last row,” she instructed. Slowly, I made my way down the center row and turned where she said. “Right there,” she called out as she pointed to a smaller roll-up door.
After slowing, I parked the bike. I scanned our surroundings and followed her to the door. Waiting, I watched as she inserted a key from the keychain she’d grabbed before we’d hauled ass out of her shop. She closed her eyes, and I watched her mouth move as she softly spoke words I couldn’t understand. Color me impressed when the key turned by itself, and the lock popped open.
“I could do that before,” she replied to my unspoken question.