Page 111 of Overcast

It doesn’t work, and I don’t think he hears me because I swear I can see the wheels spinning in his head of the things he wants to do to the man who was just grabbing me a new size of pants.

“Jeans,” the guy states, sounding bored. “I just grabbed her a new pair of jeans.”

“Were you going to help her try them on too?”

The stranger’s brows furrow. “No.”

A vein in Emric’s neck twitches before his chest purposely bumps into his. “Good. Thanks for the top-notch customer service, dickhead.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I step in between them as I face the kind employee. “I’m so sorry,” I coo, feeling the redness in my cheeks brighten. “He’s...”

Crazy. Insane. Off his rocker.

Emric’s hard chest presses up against my back, creating mine to loosen in response. Then his frame leans in before his mouth brushes the back of my ear. “Tell him what I am, sweetheart.”

His voice is deep and heavy, the warning clear that I get rid of him, or he’s going to do it himself.

I don’t dispute that he’ll act on his impulses. Although it’ll grant me a chance to gain some attention.

“Did you need me to do it?” I rock my head back and forth, stepping forward to withdrawal from his touch, but his massive hand finds my waist and hauls me back into his warm body.

“He’s—um...” The dude in front of me who once smiled and appeared happy to assist now gives me a dirty look like I had just threatened and snapped at him.

When I can’t finish my sentence, he shakes his head and pivots in the opposite direction, obviously disgusted by our behavior.

His behavior.

He doesn’t know it, but he should be grateful. I just saved him from having to limp around for days or have his arm thrown in a cast.

“If you needed help—” Emric’s lips brush the shell of my ear. “—I definitely would’ve stepped in.”

I slowly twirl, facing the man who was, lately, calm and collected for the most part. Now he just reminds me that he’s Looney Tunes.

“I didn’t,” I mutter, giving us a good amount of space in between us.

Emric’s features harden before he snaps his neck to the route that the other man just took off to. “So he was trying to fuck with—” My hand shoots out and grips his forearm, holding onto it for dear life.

“Wait.” He glances back at me, eyes falling down to where I’m squeezing tightly, and I Immediately release him. “I’m...you’re going to...”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he gripes, his stare still sour. “I don’t read minds.”

“He...” I inhale a deep-seated breath. “He wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Didn’t look like that to me.”

“It wasn’t—” His front lightly bumps into me, forcing me back into the dressing room.

“C’mon, let me not do anything with you.” His hands land on my shoulders as he guides me backward.

Closing the door shut, he locks it, filling the space with his muscles and tattoos that make him look out of place within the faded yellow walls that I believe may have been white at one point.

“Sit down,” he orders, alluding that he’s not in the mood anymore for shopping. I begin to do so, but the moment I move, he reaches out for me again, keeping me where I am.

Lazily, he lowers to his haunches and grips the waistband of his sweatpants that I’m wearing. The moment he starts to pull down the cotton fabric, my hands fasten to his.

“What are you doing?” I utter quickly.

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