Chapter 29 Sloane
SLOANE
~AUGUST~
“Get up, we’re going to go do something that you are going to hate a lot, but I don’t care,” I say, shaking Beckett softly.
He keeps his eyes closed as he rolls onto his back and brings me with him. “What if I want to stay in bed all day?”
“Then that’s too bad. I have to… run some errands, and I want you to come with me,” I say, unsure of how the best way to tell him was that I am taking him shopping, buying him a whole new wardrobe, and spoiling the hell out of him, all because I can.
I’m not going to, that’s how. Because there’s no way in hell that he’ll ever let me do that.
He lets out a dramatic huff and opens his eyes to look at me.
“Is this going to take long?”
“Depends on whether you’re willing to cooperate or not.”
“Ok, fine, what does this day entail?” he asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns onto my skin.
“I’m not going to tell you, just know that it’s a surprise, but there will be as many drink and food stops as we need to get through this,” I say with a smile.
I kiss his cheek and wiggle out of his grasp.
“You have half an hour to get ready,” I say. Mocha lets out a little bark to say, Yeah, Dad, and follows me out of the room.
We go downstairs, and I let Mocha out. I make sure that he has everything that he could possibly need before we leave.
Beckett doesn’t take very long getting ready. I hand him his, old man, plain ass black coffee, in a to-go cup, then grab the paper sack that I put our breakfast in.
“We are taking my car,” I say, pulling him towards the front door, with more enthusiasm than necessary.
“Ok, slow down,” he complains, tugging on my arm to slow me down. “You’re worse than Mocha on a leash,” He teases, making me realize that I could slow down.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just really excited. So let’s go,” I mumble, slowing down so that I’m walking next to him and not just dragging him along with me.
He opens the driver’s door for me, and I get into the car and start it while he gets into the passenger seat.
“Alright, just trust me. Everything that we are doing today is for your own good,” I say once we are on the road headed towards Denver.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks, stopping mid-bite into his breakfast sandwich.
“You can’t be mad, just let me do this, ok?” I say, and he stares at me like he may be three seconds away from opening the door and jumping out, whether the car is moving or not.
“Sloane, what are you talking about right now? Just spit out, whatever it is you’re trying to say,” he says. I let out a huff. I don’t know why I can’t just keep my mouth shut.
“We’re going shopping…”
“Ok, we go shopping all the time. What’s the big deal?”
“We’re going clothes shopping.”
“I still don’t understand what the big deal is.”
“For you.”
He goes quiet. Like he’s not sure if he heard me right. Or maybe he’s thinking about how all the clothes he has are fine. Even though I’m pretty sure there are some shirts in his closet that are from before I was born.
“Why?”
He doesn’t look super upset about the idea, like I thought that he might be—which is good—but I also didn’t expect him to yell and scream at me if he hated the idea.
“I want to get you some new clothes.”
I can’t exactly tell him that his outfits were awful; that would be a lie.
I mean, he dresses in slacks and a white button-up almost every day for work.
While I love that look, his socks have holes in them, his sweatpants are shitty material, and most of his t-shirts no longer have any designs on them.
That and you can’t tell if they were always brown, or if they were just worn enough that that’s the color they’ve been bleached to.
“Ok.”
I keep to myself that I will be paying for all of this. I don’t want him to try anything stupid, like arguing with me about it.
The drive to Denver is a lot farther than I remember it being. But that could just be that I’m excited to be able to turn him into my personal Ken doll for the day.
When we get to the mall, I stand at the map, trying to figure out what the best course of action is going to be.
“Come this way,” I demand, lacing our fingers together and pulling him towards Buckle.
There is a low probability that we would see someone whom one of us knows and would say something to Briar.
I’m not above just not telling him and just sending him an invite to the wedding.
Not that there will be a wedding or anything.
But if we continue this, then there could be. I wouldn’t be against marrying Beckett. Not even a little bit.
“Hi, welcome to Buckle. What can I do for you guys today?” asks a girl who’s probably close to my age as soon as we walk in.
“We’re just looking around. I can let you know if we need anything,” I say with a soft smile. She nods, and I pull Beckett towards the men’s section.
“Alright, let’s start with pants first. What’s your size?” I ask, letting my eyes roam over the different styles of jeans, the colors, and patterns that they offer.
“Jesus Christ, where did you bring me?” he asks, picking up a pair of dark jeans and looking at the price tag.
“Not those ones,” I say, setting the jeans down. “Those will not make your ass look good.” I ignore his question and continue browsing.
I know that Beckett has money. He lives a very minimalistic life, so you wouldn’t really be able to tell. I also know that he probably isn’t used to splurging on himself, so today is going to be filled with all kinds of adventures.
“Don’t look at the price tag. Your only job is to just pick out what you like and tell me what you don’t, so I can make you look hot,” I say, smacking his ass playfully. He glares at me over his shoulder, and I just wink.
I grab some different jeans that all have different fits, and force him into a changing room. While he’s changing, step one of my diabolical plan is in motion.
“Hi,” I say to the same girl who greeted us when we walked in. She’s at the checkout counter now and looks up at me with a smile.
“Everything that I bring over to you, can you hang onto it, please? I don’t want the guy I’m with to know how much I’m spending, so if you could be discreet about it, that would be appreciated. I don’t have a budget. I’ll come pay and pick the bags up when we’re done,” I say.
She looks at me wide-eyed and nods.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile before turning and going back over to the dressing room.
“How’s it looking? Do I need to come in there with you?” I ask, tapping on his door.
“No, I can dress myself, Sloane,” he mumbles. I roll my eyes before turning around and going to pick out some shirts.
The store is pretty empty, which surprises me, but now that I think about it, it’s not really shopping season since kids would be back in school now, I think.
I grab tees and button-ups in every color and in brands that I think will look nice on him.
“Open up,” I say, knocking. I hear him let out a sigh, but he does as I say. I give him a big smile and shove my way into the room. It’s fairly good-sized, and there is plenty of room for the two of us.
While he tries on another pair of pants, I hand him the shirts, going by what I think will look best on him, to shirts that he can lounge around in or go out in the shop in.
“Oh, damn baby, these ones make your bum look amazing,” I say, smacking his ass as he bends over to pick something up off the ground.
He lets out a surprised noise and straightens.
“Oh, my God. Is thee Beckett Hayes, blushing!?” I squeal.
“I am not,” he mumbles, his cheeks turning even redder. I smile and turn him around to look at me. I slowly look him up and down, my eyes squinting as I check out my work of art.
“Oh yeah, I will for sure be putting these in the cart.” He lets out a huff, but doesn’t disagree. “How do they feel?” I ask, looking up at him.
“They feel like jeans,” he grumbles.
I roll my eyes at him. The least he could do is pretend like he is enjoying himself.
“You know what I mean. Do they fit ok? Is the material ok?”
“What are you, my mother?” he teases, and I smile when he cracks a small smile.
“Careful, or I might make you run around the store to see if the shoes make you run faster or not.”
“That’s not funny,” he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me to him. I go willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck as he places his hands on my hips.
“Like I’ve told you a million times, I’m a comedic genius. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to come to my shows or watch my Netflix special,” I whisper. He rolls his eyes and dips his head to capture my lips in a soft kiss.
It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away.
“I’ll support you no matter what you want to be; comedian, pole dancer, street sweeper, doesn’t matter to me.”
I smile at him, “A stripper, huh?”
He smiles back. “I’d pay for private shows on that one.”
“You wouldn’t get upset about people looking at me all day?”
“Nope, because I’d know at the end of the day, it would be my cock buried deep inside this tight pussy.”
My face flushes red, and suddenly this room is too small, and I have no air in my lungs. Leave it to him to make me horny in the middle of a dressing room stall.
“Be a good boy and try on those shirts,” I whisper, nipping his ear. He growls softly, which makes me smirk at him.
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” he says as I pull away.
I shrug. “Are there any other jeans that you like other than the ones you are wearing?” I ask, looking up at him. He stares at me for a few seconds before he gives in and picks up one of the pairs that are nicely folded on one of the benches.
“Yes, I liked these ones, too.”
“Thank you, now take those ones off and try on something else, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He says, handing them to me.
I smile at him as I take the two pairs of jeans, shutting the dressing room door behind me. I go, find the jeans on the shelves, and pick out a couple more, in the same brand, fit, and size. I grab a few colors before taking them over to the girl at the checkout counter.