Chapter 20
Nina
Slow days are freaking awesome. I really thought Darin was insane.
Seeing is believing, though. Tuesdays may be the only day I try to go to town.
Since I know slow day is a real thing, I can’t tease him about it anymore.
And oh, have I teased him about it relentlessly since our surprise dinner date.
Well, I’m calling it a date whether he does or not.
Sadly, all we did that night was eat dinner.
When we have an angel in our care, I have a responsibility to her.
The McLeod’s mission to save as many battered women as possible through Ariel’s Angels is my mission too.
Those angels’ care and safety will always come before what I want.
I made that vow to Mack and Nanny when they offered me the position as The Haven House Mother.
Since I was an angel myself, I know exactly how those women feel.
I have hope for our latest angel. Skylar is a different person with her mother here. She’s no longer on suicide watch. Lauren and Nanny are at The Haven House today. We don’t leave angels alone while they’re with us. Mack will talk next steps with the ladies tomorrow.
I was really nervous about coming to town.
So far, no one has recognized me. If they have, they didn’t say anything.
We got to town around eleven. Darin had duties and club business at the Den this morning.
I don’t know why they call it club business.
They should just be honest with us and say it’s something they don’t want us ladies to know about.
It’s almost noon. I pull Darin into another clothing store. We’ve visited a couple already. I found two sweaters I liked at the last one. The scarf and gloves in the front window of this one caught my eye.
The table is just inside the doorway. I pick up a dark purple scarf and hold it up to my face. “Oh, it’s so soft.” The matching gloves and knit hat need to go home with me as well. I turn to Darin. “What do you think?”
“The black would look good on you, too.” One side of his mouth lifts.
Oh yes. I’m definitely getting a black set.
I search the table until I have the full set in black as well.
It’s not like the sales lady is going to help me.
She stays behind the counter, watching the big, bad biker standing just inside the door.
This shop must be owned by someone who doesn’t like the Viking Warriors.
Note to self. Ask before going into a shop.
I forgot how judgmental the people here can be. I’ll just pay for these and go.
On the way to the register, the jeans display catches my eye.
I have jeans, just not a lot. I had to leave most of my stuff behind when I left Los Angeles.
Andrew and the Viking Warriors chapter in California packed up my apartment.
He sent a few boxes of my stuff with their helicopter pilot.
The rest I donated to the club to use or pass on to someone in need.
I lay the scarf sets on the counter. “I’ll take these, but I’d love to try on a pair of jeans before I check out.”
“Okay.” The sales lady looks to be in her mid-forties. Old enough to know who I am. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. “I’ll unlock the door for you.”
Wow. I didn’t realize Willow Creek had to lock their dressing room doors. Oh well. I quickly find a dark blue pair of boot cut jeans in my size and follow her. She’s waiting for me, holding the door open.
“Thank you.” I smile.
She doesn’t. Her eyes keep darting to Darin. “Let me know if you need help.”
“Pretty sure I can try on jeans by myself.”
“Uh.” She turns her nose up and goes back to the register. Definitely not a Viking fan.
After putting on the jeans, I go to the three-way mirror outside the fitting room. These are the best-fitting jeans I’ve ever found. I’m a size twelve, not skinny by any means. These are soft and stretch with me when I move. They’re perfect. Why did they have to be in Miss High Tootie’s shop?
I turn to Darin again. “How do they look?”
He clears his throat and swallows hard. “Lovely.”
Miss High Tootie huffs.
I glare at her. “Did you say something?”
“No.” She drops her eyes and slides the scarves closer to the register. “I’ll just ring these up for you.”
Yes, she will, and I’m done here. I go inside the fitting room and change back into my clothes.
Petty me slams the door on the way out. Pausing at the jeans table, I jerk out a pair of light blue jeans and a black pair.
I’m never coming back in here again, but I’m not leaving without these jeans. I toss them on the counter.
“Add these.” I purposely leave off the word please.
She rings them up and bags my items. “That’s $194.25.”
Way too much, but I want them. I’ll look up the brands online and order from there next time.
I count out exactly one hundred and ninety-four dollars.
Oh, and twenty-five cents. Neither of us says thank you.
Darin takes my shopping bag and opens the door for me.
At least the big, scary Viking has manners.
I whirl around on him when we get to his truck. “Why didn’t you tell me before we walked into that shop that Miss High Tootie in there didn’t like the club?”
“Miss High Tootie? Ms. Gibson?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what I’m calling her from now on.” He offers me his hand to help me into the truck. “Ready for lunch?”
I grab his hand and squeeze. Oh, it doesn’t hurt him. “Why, Darin?”
He leans his head down close to mine. “Because you were shopping. Enjoying yourself. I wasn’t taking that from you.
And I can handle the judgment and ridicule from Miss High Tootie.
I have for years. It’s nothing new. Just another day in a biker’s life in the town.
But you, lil lady, deserve every moment of happiness you get. ”
“Darin,” I whisper.
His dark eyes search mine for a moment. I’ve seen people with black eyes before.
His remind me of the dark holes in space.
A darkness that pulls me in every time. I boldly reach up and run my fingertips through a few strands of his long, wavy brown hair peppered with gray. I drop my hand and meet his eyes again.
“Yeah, I know.” He places his other hand on my hip and lifts me into the truck. “Now, let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”
“Well, yes, sir. Don’t get between a Viking and his food,” I tease.
“Or his woman,” he mumbles as he closes my door.
No. He didn’t say that. I did not just hear those words.
I glance at him as we pull onto the street.
His woman? That wouldn’t be a bad thing.
He drives the short distance to Angie’s and parks at the side of the restaurant.
I wait for him to open my door and help me down.
I tried to open the passenger door at the clubhouse this morning.
He told me right quick that was his job.
With my feet on the ground and my body between his and the truck, I look up at him. “Did you like the jeans?”
He sucks in a breath, lifting his shoulders. Once again, he lowers his head close to mine. “Yes, Christina. I loved the jeans. Wear them often. Preferably when I’m around.”
It’s my turn to suck in a breath. I haven’t heard my real name in over twelve years. I’d forgotten what it sounded like. It’s never sounded as good as it does coming from him.
Tears well up in my eyes. “Thank you, and I will.”
I’ll wear a pair every time I plan on seeing him.