Page 120 of The Heart We Guard
“Remembering your size. If you won’t take my card and choose your own, I’m gonna go in there and buy stuff for you. Tell me what size this is.”
He offers me the bra.
I don’t take it. “It’s right there on the label.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, I have dyslexia and don’t always get letters right.”
“You do?” I ask.
He looks down at the floor and gently puts the bra back in the basket. “Yeah. It’s a pain in the fucking ass.”
In his body language and tone, I hear everything I need to. “You seem to work around it just fine.”
His shoulders pull back a little. “Do my best. About that lingerie…am I getting it or you?”
“Fine. I’ll buy some more.”
“At least three sets. One black, for sure.”
“Jesus. Bossy much?”
He grips me firmly around the waist and tugs me to him. “I want to get a couple of things straight. I love you and fully intend to spoil you. Two, I can afford it. I got multiple income streams, and this is not the only house I own. And three, I really liked your ass in those panties and want to see it in some more, sometime. Just making sure my sudden lingerie fetish isn’t at your expense. So, for fuck’s sake, just accept it and say thank you.”
“When you put it like that… Thank you. But I might have to find somewhere else to shop. I can’t get known as the new girl in town who keeps buying all the undies.”
Butcher laughs heartily. “There are worse reputations to have.”
“Not if you’re a professional surgeon with an intent to provide medical advice. And for the record, it really doesn’t bother me that you have dyslexia. But if you want me to switch to voice notes instead of text or anything to make life easier, just let me know.”
He kisses me tenderly. “That would help.”
Butcher takes my hand and walks me through the house and out to his truck. That’s another thing I’ll have to look into…getting a new car of my own. One that’s less…dominating…than the truck.
The sky is a dreary gray, and misty rain drifts over my skin
“Drive safe. Be careful,” Butcher says.
I step up onto my toes and kiss his cheek. “It’s sweet you’re thinking about me when you’re the one about to tell the club your decision. Are you sure you want to?”
“Never been more certain. Give my daughter a hug from me.”
I pull off Butcher’s property and head toward town. I pass the turning for the clubhouse and the trail that leads to Wraith’s home. I pass the access road to Smoke and Quinn’s home and see Atom on horseback out in the fields. There’s a safety in this community. All the brothers with their own space, and land, and lives. Yet utterly united. I wonder how Butcher’s decision to step down will affect that.
When I reach town, it’s quiet. I’m guessing the rain is keeping people home. I’m too early to meet Ember, so I go to the lingerie shop and pass the time browsing. There are some really pretty sets, and I take my time choosing them. Nora is the owner and an expert at bra fitting. She helps me make sure the cups fit perfectly. And even I have to admit they make my barely average boobs look spectacular. One is a deep purple satin and lace. Another in pale yellow is almost see through, with pretty little flower buds on it. And of course, the third is a deep black with swirls of roses.
When I leave the shop, bag in hand, I see Ember in her truck. She gestures down the street to her bar, Whiskey Fever, where I’m guessing she intends to park. It’s in the opposite direction to Butcher’s truck, but I don’t mind walking.
“I’ll meet you there,” I say, while gesturing down the street.
She nods and drives on, and I realize she’s going to ask what I bought. And I’m going to have to tell her I bought some new lingerie. And she’ll put two and two together and realize I’m going to wear it for her father, which won’t be awkward, at all.
But I’m hopeful she’ll let the subject go, rather than ask about her father’s preferences when it comes to my undies.
A truck pulls up behind me as I’m walking, and I think nothing of it until it crawls slowly with a periodic rev of the engine, never overtaking me. Its reflection looms in the store windows I pass.
I glance over my shoulder, but the windshield has that faded tint on it, and with the briefest of looks, it’s hard to see who’s inside.
A prickle of awareness tells me I should move. Cross the street, step into a store, don’t stay vulnerable. But as my hands grow cold, I do the exact opposite. I freeze in place, hoping for it to pass so I can move to the other side of Main Street.
