4. Henri
Chapter 4
Henri
“So, what brings you two in today?” The shopkeeper is way too chipper, and I immediately expect Deacon to go to his mostly stoic, more reserved self, letting me do the leading.
“I apparently need a new wardrobe as I’ve been informed that while black is suitable for any occasion, it’s not suitable for all of the occasions.” He smiles at her.
It’s the casual and laid-back, mingling, personable version of Deacon, the one I need him to tap into regularly.
She gives him a once-over while clarifying. “Certainly, you’re thinking four or five outfits for various occasions or...?”
Deacon turns to me but doesn’t take himself out of the conversation.
“Yes. Mostly business casual and smart casual. Pieces we can dress up or down,” I answer, speaking the fashion lingo to help Deacon.
“Oh. My. Gawd.” A woman from the back of the store comes rushing forward.
Deacon takes a step toward and in front of me, partially blocking my line of sight.
Is he protecting me? I can’t rectify what’s happening and ask my wolf, who is pretty much a swooning puddle and no help at all. Ugh. Wolves.
I step to the side to better see the interaction.
“You’re James Alden.” Her eyes are lustful and excited.
Deacon nods. “Last time I checked anyway.”
“My girlfriends and I ran into you this summer.” She tries to draw a connection to him.
The flirting is extremely obvious, and I think she’s about to proposition him right here and now with the way she’s pushing her tits toward him.
When he doesn’t show any recognition toward her, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’m Cora?”
Deacon turns to me, completely dismissing her. “Sorry, but unfortunately, we’re here on business. We’ll have to catch up later.”
“I could help you?” She steps, trying to get in front of the other sales associate again.
The first woman, older than the young woman flirting with Deacon, clicks her tongue, and I can’t decipher it.
“Well, I’m so sorry, but I was really hoping to work with Bianca today.” Deacon inclines his head toward the first woman and surprises me by reading her name tag for the discussion. He tucks his hands in his pocket, wobbling a bit with an appeasing shrug. “She’s been super nice so far.”
“Oh, well, I’m off at four thirty. If you’re not in a hurry, we could maybe grab some drinks.” She continues to push.
No means no, I want to growl.
My wolf is uncomfortable inside me. But Deacon seems to be handling it well. On the bright side, this is a good indicator of how he’ll handle stress. There are worse trial runs to have .
“Sorry, we’re on a time crunch. But thank you.” Deacon rotates his body back toward Bianca and smiles at her. It’s a bit larger, more engaged. “Alright, so not black, business and smart casual.”
He’s making a point to dismiss her. I don’t give Cora a second look intentionally, but I catch her stunned, rejected face before she turns toward the back to lick her wounds.
“Yes, I’ve a couple great options for you.” She puts her arm out, blocking Deacon’s mega fan, and leads him toward a men’s clothing rack.
Ten minutes in, Deacon’s overwhelmed. His fingers twitch at his sides as the woman shows him another dress shirt, and he looks at me for guidance.
I pick up a few of the options she pulled for him—chinos and corduroy pants in dark colors, slightly brighter shirts, and two more neutral jackets in gray and brown. “Try these on to start.”
He steps into a dressing room.
Bianca whispers, “Is he okay? He looks uncomfortable.”
“His entire wardrobe is rock band T-shirts, dark wash and black denim, a leather jacket, and a black suit,” I whisper back, knowing full well Deacon can hear us.
She makes an O with her mouth. “I’ll step away for just a bit. Why don’t you two try on some options and see what you think? Get a baseline for things that do and don’t work.”
I put my hands together in thanks and turn to the dressing room. Deacon exits and shrugs, turning around for me to get a good look.
I fight to keep my mouth from popping open. Deacon has always been attractive, but dressed up just a smidge? He’s jaw-droppingly handsome.
The chinos hug him in all the right areas but a little too well. The shirt he’s wearing fits nicely, but his look of discomfort is accompanied by his fingers twitching.
“Okay, pants are too small. Size up.” I immediately voice for him, trying to drag my eyes away from the bulge in front, where the traitors had gone after checking out his chest. “How do you feel about the shirt?”
“I prefer more mobility. But after a wash, it’ll probably loosen up a little bit.” He runs his hand down his face.
“You okay?” I step toward him and ask quietly.
“Soup of the day.” He nods. “Everyone’s lack of concern tells me that the current flavor of woman and man arguing in the back of the store isn’t living.”
“Oh.” I nod, agreeing with him. “They’re not something I can see or hear. Do you want to go somewhere else and come back here? Maybe try another day?”
He shakes his head, letting it drop from its proud stance. “No. I just should have brought the fun flask.”
“As opposed to the boring flask?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Exactly.” Deacon shrugs.
I reach into my purse hanging at my side and step closer to him. The metal is cool in my hand, and I pull it out and, below waist level, offer it to him.
“Didn’t know you had it in you to carry.” His surprise is punctuated with relief as he takes the flask from me.
My heart rate picks up at the look he gives me... approval maybe? “It’s my job to manage you. If that means learning to carry a ‘fun flask’ for extended outings and urgent situations, then consider me the life of the party.”
“You like this outfit enough?” Deacon asks before his head snaps over to the far side of the store. Whatever he sees has him shaking his head.
“I do. Let me get you a size up and try it again. Go and take a couple minutes in seclusion and come out in a different ensemble when you’re ready.” I look around the racks and the shop, wishing I could see what he could. If I could help him make this easier, I would. “I’ll wander, maybe call Bianca over to give us a hand.”
Deacon doesn’t say anything and goes back into the changing room without further argument.
Drawing a breath, I look around and form a plan of attack for the fastest shopping trip I can come up with.