Page 53 of Mayhem and Minnie

Girls need a lot of stuff, don’t they? Not that I’m an expert, but my mother has a closet the size of a two-bedroom apartment.

“Do I need so many things?” Her voice holds a tinge of wonder.

“I will not allow you to wear dirty clothes again,” I tell her sternly.

“But—”

“No buts. We leave as soon as your jeans are dried.”

And with that, I end the conversation. Knowing the dryer cycle will take another half an hour, I head to my room to change my clothes for the day. I put on a pair of slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black sweater on top of it. I grab my watch from my nightstand and fasten it around my wrist, then add a touch of cologne.

I may not like to go out and interact with people. But if I have to, then I must at least make an effort to look presentable.

Before I head downstairs to meet Minnie, I grab a merino wool cardigan from my closet. My sweaters would be too big on her, but this should work.

To my surprise, Minnie is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. She’s wearing her jeans and my white shirt tucked in the band of her pants. It still looks oversized, but somehow, she makes it appear chic.

“Here,” I say and hand her the cardigan. “It’s too cold to go out in just a shirt.”

She murmurs a low thank you as she takes the cardigan from my hands. But instead of putting it on, she first brings it to her nose and inhales deeply. She nuzzles her face against it for a solid five seconds before she smiles and shrugs it on.

Odd.

She’s too odd.

Perhaps she wanted to make sure it was clean?

Alas. I don’t think I want to know what goes inside that messy brain of hers.

The cardigan reaches her knees, but she somehow makes it work.

There’s only one more issue.

Her shoes—or lack thereof. She’s still wearing the slides from before, but that’s unacceptable in this weather.

My lips flatten as I contemplate what we could do.

“What’s your shoe size?”

“Uhm…” she stammers. Grabbing one of her slides, she reads the number on the sole. “Five.”

I nod, filing that information away for future use. Until then, however, she needs socks, which I’m generous enough to lend to her. At least this way her toes won’t freeze off.

With that done, we go to the garage and get in my car.

Next stop, a department store.

Minnie is rather quiet the entire journey. She’s staring out the window with a look of pure wonder. She marvels at every single thing on the highway.

On the fucking highway. What is there to even see?

I find myself scowling the more she reacts to her surroundings, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m not scowling because she’s a rather ignorant little chit but because her attention is not on me.

“Minnie,” I call her name.

Her head turns to me, her brows going up in question.

“What’s your last name? You didn’t mention it.”

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