Page 55 of Mayhem and Minnie

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he stammers.

I pin him with my gaze, and that’s enough to get him moving. He puts distance between us, all the while apologizing and making excuses for his behavior.

When he’s a few steps away, he all but dashes inside. It takes a few moments for a different valet to come out to help us, this time a woman.

She, too, apologizes for her coworker.

I give her the car keys and ignore her babbling. Taking Minnie’s hand in mine, I lead her to the entrance of the department store.

“Are you okay?” I ask when we get to the lobby. It’s early in the morning on a weekday, so there are not too many people around.

She strains a smile.

“Yes. Just a little shaken,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re with me, nothing will happen to you. No one will touch you, all right?”

Thoughtless idiot! What the hell are you promising her?

But just the way her face lights up makes me glad I said those words and I promptly push my inner voice aside. Perhaps for once, I should let my instinct lead me rather than my intellect.

“That’s kind of you,” she murmurs shyly, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “But…” She takes a deep breath. “As long as you’re with me, that will keep happening.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, perplexed.

“Men,” she answers with a defeated shrug. “They see me and they…want me.”

What?

I blink.

Then I throw my head back and laugh.

This little heathen has quite the sense of humor.

8

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious,” Minnie says with a frown.

“Sure, pet, sure.” I pat her on the shoulders. “We should get you some shoes first. Just seeing you in those goddamn slides makes me physically uncomfortable.”

“But—”

“Come,” I tell her and grab her hand.

I’m not too familiar with women’s brands, but I spot a shoe store close to the entrance, so we head there.

As we enter the store, all eyes are suddenly on us. There are mostly women inside, but the few men who wait around while their wives shop stare openly at Minnie.

I suppose they’re equally offended by her battered slides.

“We’ll get you some sneakers and boots for now. You can pick more items if something catches your fancy,” I comment as I accompany her to the sneaker display.

Her hand is still in mine. She’s incredibly close to me, sliding even closer when someone looks her way. Perhaps this is a sign of her trauma, too. She’s already been through too much. And for some reason, she finds me safe.

My chest fills with pride, and I’m surprised to realize how delighted I am by the prospect that I’m her safe haven. Despite having an issue with strangers coming into my personal space, I don’t mind it so much with her.

I pull her closer.

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