Page 267
But then he tugs his lower lip under his teeth, a lip bite that has my mouth hanging open. Who knew that would be the thing to drive my mind wild with fantasies?
Apparently, he did because he lifts my chin until my mouth closes again, and whispers, “Be careful, Devreux. You’re drooling.”
Tugging the door open, he enters the shop. And I’m still standing here like a damn fool in front of a giant Ring Pop proposal. Self-consciously, I wipe the sides of my mouth, just in case.Oh, thank God.All good. I open the door and join him inside the store.
With a handful of candy bags already in hand, he eyes the sea salt caramels when I walk up. “I didn’t know you were such a . . .” I hold up the candy in front of my face.
“Sugar Daddy?” He snatches the lollipop from me. “Very funny.” He’s laughing and drops the candy in one of his many bags.
“What can I say? It was lame, but the joke still landed.”
“Get to shopping, Tate. We need more candy.” He takes a pre-packed bag of the sea salt caramels and then cruises down the gummy aisle.
Since we’re the only ones in the store beside the employees, I walk down the other small aisle and ask, “So what’s with the candy, Decker? Secret sugar addiction? Part-time job providing candy to kindergarteners, or—” I gasp.
He moves a row of Junior Mint boxes, but let’s be honest here. He didn’t have to do that to be able to see me. “Or what?”
“Luring your prey with your sticky sweets.”
“Damn, that escalated quickly.”
“Granted, I’m the prey, and for the record, I love Twizzlers.”
“A licorice girl,” he says like it’s a whole genre of women in and of itself. I’m not sure what to make of that response. He returns the boxes to the shelves, and adds, “I like candy, but I thought it would be nice to get Natalie some. Nick told me he’s been running out at night to satisfy her sweet tooth.”
Hearing him talk about my best friend with firsthand knowledge surprises me. Living there has its perks, I guess. But his action behind that knowledge surprises me more. “The pregnancy must have her craving all kinds of things she doesn’t normally eat.” I round the endcap and run right into him. Some of the candy falls to the ground, and we’re both quick to kneel, bonking our heads together, which sends me backward to my ass.
A bag of Sugar Babies lands on my lap, and he says, “Fitting.”
I’m not actually sure why, but it starts in my belly and overwhelms me until I burst out laughing. With his candy all over the place, he starts laughing too. Rubbing over the red mark on his forehead, he asks, “Why are we laughing?”
“I don’t know,” I say, giggling too hard to stop. “But it feels good.” It does too, like a hard-earned day off.
The store clerk starts shoving the candy back in the bags like a maniac. “Are you okay?” A certain someone might be high on the sugar.
Harrison waits for me to answer, concern suddenly jading the blue of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I reply, holding my hands out. “Help me up?”
Surprisingly, the clerk takes one of my hands, but Harrison starts laughing again, and says, “I got her. Thanks.” He takes my hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing over the top of mine. “Hold tight, ba—” He doesn’t finish, but I wish he had. He hasn’t called me baby that many times, but I remember every one of them. Usually, he says it in the heat of passion, except the first time and now the almost last one.
He pulls me to my feet, his hands holding tight to mine, the toe of our shoes touching. There’s this moment between us—thick with tension, ripe with an imagination running away, a lightness from the laughter remaining—that feels so good.
Us against the world. It reminds me of what I have with Natalie.And that is strange because I never thought I’d have anyone else in my life like her.
Harrison isn’t a knight riding onto my life’s page to save the day.
No, he has his story to create. Resting his hand heavy on my head, he asks, “You okay?”
I swat him away. “I’ll be fine. By that welt on your head, it looks like you got the worst end of it.” Then I reach up and rub my fingertips so lightly over the bruising skin.
“I never claimed to be a tough guy, but I didn’t expect to be taken out by a five-foot-three Tasmanian devil dressed in pink while in a candy store. You match the store, by the way. Almost like you planned it . . . I’m onto you, Tate.”
“Onto me? I’m innocent.”
“Innocent? You called me a murderer for buying candy.”
Shrugging, I laugh under my breath. “I watch a lot of true crime stories. What can I say?”
Apparently, he did because he lifts my chin until my mouth closes again, and whispers, “Be careful, Devreux. You’re drooling.”
Tugging the door open, he enters the shop. And I’m still standing here like a damn fool in front of a giant Ring Pop proposal. Self-consciously, I wipe the sides of my mouth, just in case.Oh, thank God.All good. I open the door and join him inside the store.
With a handful of candy bags already in hand, he eyes the sea salt caramels when I walk up. “I didn’t know you were such a . . .” I hold up the candy in front of my face.
“Sugar Daddy?” He snatches the lollipop from me. “Very funny.” He’s laughing and drops the candy in one of his many bags.
“What can I say? It was lame, but the joke still landed.”
“Get to shopping, Tate. We need more candy.” He takes a pre-packed bag of the sea salt caramels and then cruises down the gummy aisle.
Since we’re the only ones in the store beside the employees, I walk down the other small aisle and ask, “So what’s with the candy, Decker? Secret sugar addiction? Part-time job providing candy to kindergarteners, or—” I gasp.
He moves a row of Junior Mint boxes, but let’s be honest here. He didn’t have to do that to be able to see me. “Or what?”
“Luring your prey with your sticky sweets.”
“Damn, that escalated quickly.”
“Granted, I’m the prey, and for the record, I love Twizzlers.”
“A licorice girl,” he says like it’s a whole genre of women in and of itself. I’m not sure what to make of that response. He returns the boxes to the shelves, and adds, “I like candy, but I thought it would be nice to get Natalie some. Nick told me he’s been running out at night to satisfy her sweet tooth.”
Hearing him talk about my best friend with firsthand knowledge surprises me. Living there has its perks, I guess. But his action behind that knowledge surprises me more. “The pregnancy must have her craving all kinds of things she doesn’t normally eat.” I round the endcap and run right into him. Some of the candy falls to the ground, and we’re both quick to kneel, bonking our heads together, which sends me backward to my ass.
A bag of Sugar Babies lands on my lap, and he says, “Fitting.”
I’m not actually sure why, but it starts in my belly and overwhelms me until I burst out laughing. With his candy all over the place, he starts laughing too. Rubbing over the red mark on his forehead, he asks, “Why are we laughing?”
“I don’t know,” I say, giggling too hard to stop. “But it feels good.” It does too, like a hard-earned day off.
The store clerk starts shoving the candy back in the bags like a maniac. “Are you okay?” A certain someone might be high on the sugar.
Harrison waits for me to answer, concern suddenly jading the blue of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I reply, holding my hands out. “Help me up?”
Surprisingly, the clerk takes one of my hands, but Harrison starts laughing again, and says, “I got her. Thanks.” He takes my hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing over the top of mine. “Hold tight, ba—” He doesn’t finish, but I wish he had. He hasn’t called me baby that many times, but I remember every one of them. Usually, he says it in the heat of passion, except the first time and now the almost last one.
He pulls me to my feet, his hands holding tight to mine, the toe of our shoes touching. There’s this moment between us—thick with tension, ripe with an imagination running away, a lightness from the laughter remaining—that feels so good.
Us against the world. It reminds me of what I have with Natalie.And that is strange because I never thought I’d have anyone else in my life like her.
Harrison isn’t a knight riding onto my life’s page to save the day.
No, he has his story to create. Resting his hand heavy on my head, he asks, “You okay?”
I swat him away. “I’ll be fine. By that welt on your head, it looks like you got the worst end of it.” Then I reach up and rub my fingertips so lightly over the bruising skin.
“I never claimed to be a tough guy, but I didn’t expect to be taken out by a five-foot-three Tasmanian devil dressed in pink while in a candy store. You match the store, by the way. Almost like you planned it . . . I’m onto you, Tate.”
“Onto me? I’m innocent.”
“Innocent? You called me a murderer for buying candy.”
Shrugging, I laugh under my breath. “I watch a lot of true crime stories. What can I say?”
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