For some inexplicable reason, those words make me want to cling to him. “How bad is the truth?”
“Could be worse, I guess. Could be better.” The song ends, and he pulls away. “I don’t want to kiss you again until you know who I am. What I am.”
“You’re Marston,” I say. Feeling bolder after a whole song in his arms, I skim my fingers over his cheek and trace the strong line of his jaw. “The boy who kissed me on my sixteenth birthday and who danced with me by Lake Blackledge in the moonlight.”
“I’m a delinquent and a thief. And I spent most of last summer homeless.” He drops his hands and backs away. My skin feels cold without his touch. “I’m not the kind of guy you should be looking to for dances or kisses or . . .” He turns away and drags a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
I place a tentative hand against his broad back. “Are you okay?”
“Get in the car. We should go.”
A delinquent and a thief. I wonder if he really believes that’s all he is.
Chapter Five
Marston
Present day
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brinley says. “I’m not going to let you buy my shoes.”
The shop clerk hands my card back, and I tuck it in my wallet. She was more than happy to take it and my whispered instruction that anything the birthday girl wanted was to be charged to me. “It’s already done.”
“Marston!” Even when she’s exasperated, the way she says my name turns me on. There’s just a little of that Southern honey on the first syllable, tugging down and making it a little longer.
“It’s your birthday, and I didn’t get you anything.”
“You didn’t even know we’d run into each other,” she says, blushing.
I shrug, smiling. Ever since she kissed me in the limo, I can’t stop smiling.
She stares at the new shoes and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. I normally don’t care about shoes, but seeing Brinley in these heels with a skinny strap across her toes and another around her ankle, I can understand how a man might develop a fetish. It’s impossible to look at her in these and not imagine her wearing them and nothing else.
I could tell she was trying to talk herself out of them, which is interesting, since I assumed she’d be rolling in family money by now. Hell, maybe she is and she’s more frugal than her parents ever were. Either way, I wasn’t about to let her walk away without them or let her pay for them herself.
“I love them,” she says, “but I didn’t expect you to buy me anything. This is too much.”
“It’s not. Consider it your Christmas present ten years late.”
She lifts her head, opens her mouth, then snaps it shut again before finally saying, “Thank you.”
We only had one Christmas together, and it killed me that I couldn’t spoil her. I bought her a twenty-dollar necklace from Target and even felt guilty about spending that. I had a job with the groundskeepers at Brinley’s parents’ estate and worked in the kitchen with Aunt Lori sometimes, but I used most of that money for gas, insurance on Uncle Henry’s old Civic, and money for Mom. I didn’t feel right having a warm place to sleep and three squares while she was back home trying to clean up her act and struggling to pay rent on that shithole her slumlord called a house.
But now, everything’s different.
“Come on, birthday girl,” I say, taking Brinley’s hand. “We’re not done yet.”
“You got me a present that Christmas, remember?” she says as we wander out of the shoe store. “It was a heart-shaped necklace.”
Brinley’s probably gotten thousands of priceless gifts in her life, and yet she remembers that necklace? Part of me wishes she didn’t. “Not much of a gift, considering what you meant to me.” My jaw twitches, and I don’t say the rest. Nothing compared to what he got you. I was setting the dining room table for their Christmas dinner when Roman showed up with the small box. I was in the next room when she opened the diamond tennis bracelet, and I could hear her little sister and Mom going nuts over it. “Oh my God, that’s so romantic!” “Brinley, put it on! It’s perfect.”
She squeezes my hand, as if she’s right there with me, reliving those memories. “I never cared about the money.”
It’s easy not to care about money when you have it, but it’s not her fault she was born into that world, so I shrug and pull her to a stop in front of a two-story jewelry store with lush carpets and chandeliers in the entrance. “I cared. And now it’s my turn to spoil you.”
Her eyes widen as she turns and sees where I intend to go next. “Stop it. No. You can’t.”
I release her hand and stroll inside, winking at her over my shoulder. “Can and will.”
A saleswoman is quickly in front of me as if she can scent a man in the mood to spoil a woman. Brinley is right. I used to be intimidated by all this shit, but I learned over the years that if you walk and talk with enough confidence, the staff will kiss your ass and assume they’re a sales pitch away from a fat commission check. “How can I help you, sir?”
Brinley’s still in the hallway, hands on hips like she can talk me out of this if she’s just stubborn enough, but I point to her. “That beautiful woman right there? It’s her birthday, and I want to spoil her rotten. I’m thinking earrings and a necklace.”
The saleswoman beams. “I’m sure we can help you, sir. Diamonds?”
“And pearls. She has a soft spot for pearls.”
“Follow me. I have some options I think you’ll love.” She slips behind a long counter, and across the hall, Brinley wanders toward another store window. She doesn’t have to come in here for me to buy her something, and yet, right now, I’m more interested in what’s caught her attention.
I hold a finger up for the saleswoman. “I’ll be right back.”
Her face falls and I know she’s worried she’s lost me, but I’ll make it up to her.
I head back into the hall and stop next to Brinley, who stands outside La Perla. The lingerie in the window is black and gray lace, and I immediately picture her in it—her skin flushed from arousal, her nipples taut against the lace bra, the way the high-cut panties would hug her ass.
Stripping her out of that lace is officially on my bucket list.
“See something you like?” I ask her.
When she turns to me, she’s smiling. “Thank you for coming to your senses,” she says, starting to walk away.
“Oh, no. I’m not done there. Just taking a little detour.” I turn toward the window, taking my time as I imagine the showcased bra and panty set on her.
“You did not just ogle that mannequin.”
I chuckle. “I did, but only because I was thinking of how it will look on you.”
“What a line.” She smacks my arm playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”
I arch a brow. “It’s not a line. My only question is if you’re going to stay out here or go in with me while I buy it.” I stride into the store.
She chases after me and grabs my arm. “You don’t need to buy me gifts.”