Chapter 14
14
Tatum
“The French knicker in white, the black teddy, and the cheekies.” He points at the table and then rubs his thumb over his bottom lip in contemplation. After putting enough thought into it to solve world hunger, he snaps his fingers and turns to me. “I think you need all four colors of the cheekies.”
He actually was talking lingerie language.
Who knew that Harrison Decker was an aficionado when it came to lingerie and undergarments?
From the couch where I’ve been lounging for the last thirty minutes while he worked with the sales associate, I point at my chest. “Me?”
Seemingly confused, he replies, “Yes you. What do you think?”
“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted my opinion on what lingerie I should buy for myself.
“Ha-ha.” There is no chuckle to accompany the words. “I thought I was helping.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s a tic that Harrison has when he’s trying to give room for other opinions. I’m a quick study when it comes to him.
Joining him at the counter, I eye the pieces he narrowed it down to. “Helping? You’re a bull in a china shop.” Picking up the turquoise cheekies, I discard them to the far side of the counter. I bring the silk thong back into the mix and then push the pile forward to be rung up. Leaning against the counter, I ask him, “Why do you have such a vested interest in what I’m wearing under my clothes anyway?”
He clears his throat and glances to the saleswoman. Bleached blond with her hair twisted back into a chignon. Messy modern, but still elegant. Later thirties, if I had to guess. Plunging neckline that reveals a hint of a lace garment underneath. Very slender. I mentally note that she doesn’t have birthing hips, the term my grandmother once used when referring to how mine will come in handy one day.
I balk at that memory. Me and a baby. That’d be crazy.
Rubbing a hand over my rounded hip, I start to wonder if she’s his type, the type of woman he dates in California?
Her eyes don’t meet mine but go to him when the total is announced. “That will be eight hundred and thirty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents. Will that be cash or charge?”
Whipping my hand through the air, I make a whoosh sound as I hand the card over. I’d failed to notice his was already on the counter. Pulling it back across the slick surface, I inform him, “I’m buying my underwear.”
He pushes the card forward again. “Okay, then I’ll buy the teddy and the knickers.”
“Why would you be buying me anything in this store, Harrison? Or any store for that matter?”
“Wishful thinking?”
“Are you asking if you’re ever going to see these on me?”
“I’m hopeful.” He is—his eyes, that grin that’s tipping into a smirk, and the confidence that’s always there in his body’s frame.
“It’s funny you say that when I didn’t know where we stood after this morning. You got the worst of me.” My gaze travels back to his black credit card just before she snatches it.
“On your card, sir?” she asks.
“I’m here, by the way. Standing right here and able to buy my own freaking overpriced underwear.”
Jerking back as though I insulted her, she says, “I think I’ll let you two work this out.”
As soon as she walks away, I say, “You do realize she’s hitting on you, right?” I shake my head in annoyance. “Like I’m not standing right here.”
“The best revenge,” he offers conspiratorially, “is to let me buy you these things like a good boyfriend. She’ll be none the wiser to our plan.”
“What plan is that? It’s underwear. She’ll probably think you’re bankrolling an affair. And definitely have no respect for me.”
“Why do you need her respect?”
Good question. “I don’t need it,” I lie. “I’m just saying?—”
She returns, and I hush instantly like she might know we were talking about her. But then I say, “If you think paying for these things gives you automatic access to seeing them on me, you are?—”
“The luckiest guy in Manhattan.” He slips his hands on my waist and around to my lower back, and I let him. I also let him kiss my neck and then my cheek. Because he’s not the only one who’s lucky today . . .
Turning to the saleswoman, I say, “He’s paying.”
My eyes close, and the feel of his lips on my body again has me giddy. Every time he kisses me, I feel sexy. Wanted. Yet not uncomfortable when he invades my space. That’s different from other guys I’ve seen more seriously and casually. Is he?
Now that we’ve staked claim so publicly for her to witness, she’s quick to speed this transaction along. At least she has the courtesy to hand me the bag.
As soon as we’re back on the sidewalk, he takes my hand as we start walking again. “What are you doing?” I ask, pulling away from him. “She can’t see us out here.”
“Is that what you think, Tatum?” So smirky this Sunday. Just goes to show how far good looks and a bankroll will get you in life. He’s confident, not to a fault but in a way that failure hasn’t quite shaped. Even outside, I catch the sun worshipping at his feet. “You think what we did inside and holding hands out here was for her?”
“Well, sure, but . . .” I’m actually not sure what to say, so I look back at the store, wondering if I’ve misread the situation.
“No buts, but let me ask you.”
I stare through the glass, but the saleswoman is nowhere to be found. “Wait a minute. Why do you get a but, but I don’t?”
“You just got one.” As the afternoon’s carried on, Harrison’s become decidedly more relaxed. Maybe champagne is his weakness.
Rolling my eyes, I slide my purse down to my elbow just so I can cross my arms over my chest. I never know how this will go with him, so it’s best to be prepared, and by that, I mean brace myself for anything. “Let’s move this along, shall we? What do you want to ask me?”
“What we did back there . . .” Looking down, he suddenly finds his shoes the most interesting thing around. I should be offended since I wouldn’t mind the honor, but him flipping from confident to coy in the matter of a few short back-and-forths is quite charming. Ugh. Fine, I find him the most fascinating thing around right now.
I can be honest with myself.
Lowering my arms to my sides, I take a step closer, and then another. I can appreciate how handsome he is even when I’m mad at him, but when I’m not so upset, he’s definitely a temptation. “Yeah?”
“How’d that feel for you?” He closes the gap, keeping the question between us despite the other people passing by in a hurry. “My hands on you, my arms around your body, holding you close, and kissing you without a care about who sees us. How’d that feel, Tate?”
Hearing him call me that name hasn’t bothered me since the morning I ran into him at Natalie’s, sort of like the man himself. In fact, both have grown on me tremendously. “I . . .” Now I feel shy. I force my head up just so I can look into his eyes. “I liked it.”
He nods, his smile genuine. “I did, too.” He reaches for my hand again, but I meet him in the middle, and our hands clasp together.
I’m not sure if I like feeling this mushy inside over a guy or if I love it, though I’m leaning toward the latter at the moment. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” Please say no.
“Yes.”
Disappointment deflates the hope that had been building in my chest. “Oh . . .”
“With you, Tate, if you don’t mind me tagging along for the rest of your errands.”
And that makes me happy.
My hold on him tightens, and I cling onto the hem of his shirt with my other hand. “What if we skip all that to go back to mine and hang out?”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Hanging out?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I have no idea what the kids call it, but let’s just see how the day rolls by.” I really hope that includes rolling around in my bed. I don’t know if I should be mad at myself for wanting him so much or thrilled that I get another chance. Either way, it beats sitting alone in my apartment.
His contentment is reflected in his expression. Not a care in the world lines that great face. “I really don’t mind going with you. Where’s the next stop?”
Eeks. “ Wellllll , about that? I kind of don’t have any errands.”
“Just the lingerie shop today?” He tugs me into his big and deliciously strong arms. “I like your priorities.”
Peering up at him, I confess, “My priorities were actually just to taunt you. I didn’t need anything from that store.”
The vibration from his chest is felt as soon as the sound reaches my ears. “Your taunts are actually tempting,” he says, angling down to place a kiss just beneath my ear. The man knows how to tempt. “And teasing. Do you know how hard it?—”
“No, tell me how hard it was.” I lick my lips and then bite the bottom one, feeling just how hard it is.
Releasing my hand, he moves beside me and throws his arm over my shoulders. We start walking like we’ve walked arm in arm for years. It’s nice . “I can’t say I’m upset we’re going to your place to ‘hang out’ after that comment. But I have to ask, how much farther?”