Page 39 of Gideon's Gratitude

Empty.

Damn it.

I’d given all my cash to Gideon this morning. And had refused to take it back when the stubborn man had shoved it at me.

The woman held up her hand. “We’re paid very well. But thank you.” She nudged her co-worker, who gave me one final nod, and they headed into the diner.

Gideon stepped forward from the shadows. “Sorry you gave me all your money?”

“No. Now get in, it’s bloody cold out here.”

“Says you. You’re the idiot only wearing just a suit coat.” He gestured to his thick ski jacket. “I’m good to go.”

Go where?

And do what?

Finally, why did that get me thinking of interesting propositions? Or was it interesting positions?

I slipped into the SUV.

Gideon rounded the front and did the same thing.

“Home?”

He gave me a once-over. “You need suitable clothes. At least a pair of jeans, a wool shirt, and a winter coat.” He rubbed his forehead. “And boots, a scarf, gloves, a hat, and pajamas wouldn’t be out of the question either. If you’re not going back to Vancouver, can’t you get someone to bring that stuff out to you? Don’t you have people who work for you? Or people you can hire?”

“Yes, to the clothes, no, to the help.” I turned the key, and the engine purred to life. I’d almost bought an electric car, but opted for a hybrid.

Chelsea was going to have a shitfit.

Of course, if she had her way, we’d all walk or bicycle.

“Do you want to go shopping with me?”

“Would you even know where to go?”

“Well, no. But I’m certain if I put the instructions into the navigation—”

“I wasn’t talking about directions. I can point you to the row of big-box stores. I’m asking if you know how to buy clothes at a retail store that doesn’t offer personal service.”

I should’ve been affronted. Of course I knew how to buy clothes. One went to the store, selected them, and purchased them. I might be upper class these days, but I wasn’t a snob.

Except Jean-Michel had been buying my leisure wear for years, while Thea took care of the suits and tuxedos. I worked. I earned money. Lots of money. The rest had always just taken care of itself.

“Do you even know what size jeans you wear?”

I hesitated. “No.”

“Great. Well, let’s go. Turn left out of the parking lot and stick to the left lane. In about six blocks, you’re going to hang another left. We’ll go to the big blue store and buy you clothes that regular guys wear.” Then, under his breath, he muttered something about me being the size of his ex. An auspicious beginning to our outing.

This plan sounded simple, but I was dubious. A store that didn’t specialize in men’s wear? Still, he was right. I also required underwear and socks.

Perhaps asking Jean-Michel to run out some clothes out here for me… No, truly more hassle than it was worth. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion the man had a soft spot for Chelsea. If she started in on him about my whereabouts, a slip-up was likely. Or, more likely, inevitable. Everyone gave in to my sister’s charms.

Once Gideon secured his seat belt, I drove out of the parking lot, careful when making the left turn. Traffic was heavier than I expected, given the later hour. Eight thirty-six according to the GPS system. “Will they still be open?”

“Until ten.”

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