Page 97 of For Cowgirls and Kings
It’s been a long time since she’s lit up like this, soaking in the small joys of life that she typically views as a selfish waste of her time.She’s wrong.Wanting things, taking care of yourself first, being happy, those don’t make you a bad person. They make you human.
She stands for several moments, her hands running over the black velvet collar speckled in silver conchos, her eyes trailing over the matching velvet skirt. It’s incredible craftsmanship, a work of art—and would be beautiful on Dale. A piece like that is likely to wear most people instead of the other way around;Dale would have no issues though. As beautiful as it is, every eye in the room would still only see her.
Just as I do.
She picks up the tag, looking at it for several beats, before dropping it and continuing to wander around the store. I watch her eyes widen, her fingers tracing a fringed leather jacket, a rearing horse embroidered on the back, the color a rick plum, almost black, and I note how similar it is to her lipstick. She’d look like a devil wearing such a thing—and fuck if that doesn’t make my dick pulse.
I saunter toward her, my hands buried in my pockets to keep from doing something like pulling her towards me and taking her here and now.
“See anything you like?” My voice is thick with a husky tone, and she yelps, turning around to face me. She looks surprised, like she was caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to, her mouth hanging slightly ajar.
She clears her throat, nodding slowly, “It’s all beautiful. I want one of everything.” I smirk and her eyes narrow. “Absolutely not,” she grumbles in defiance.
“Well, something. What’s your favorite?”
I follow her around the small room, a glass shard covered saddle glittering from the exposed brick ceiling, and feel the joy radiating from her overexcited body. It’s intoxicating to see her so giddy.
She points at a black velvet dress, large oval silver conchos with turquoise stones in their centers starting at the neckline and trailing to where the dress splits above the knee. “This one is beautiful. But”—she leans towards me, her voice a conspiratorial whisper—“where would I wear something like that?”
I shrug. “To get groceries. To teach. To church. To a late night frisk at the Reyes house.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You could wear it for no other reason than to have me tear it off, ripping the expensive fabric and destroying the conchos, if you want Dale. I’ll buy it for no other reason than to see it on the floor. Gladly.” Her eyes widen, but she keeps her lips pinched annoyingly closed, even as a blush blooms up her neck.
What’s she keeping behind those warm chocolate eyes and sinfully dark lips?
She turns around, continuing forward, but I can’t tear my eyes from her curvy form for even a second. I drink in her features, the sway of her ass, and the perfect softness of her back through the sheer shirt. I haven’t stopped looking at her all day, and yet, each time my eyes snag on her, it’s like seeing her for the first time all over again.
She screeches to a halt, and it takes several labored breaths before I can pry my hungry eyes from her back to see what she’s looking at.
“Dang,” I whistle, and step closer to her back. We’ve reached a glass case, large mannequins filling the small space, each layered in heavy, magnificent pieces of turquoise jewelry.
“It has to be one of the prettiest pieces I’ve ever seen,” she states, her finger pointing toward an especially large necklace, the stones a piercing blue, the silver patinated.
“Do you want it?” I ask, trying to mask my eagerness. What I wouldn’t give to see her wearing it—wearing nothing but it.
She snorts, the sound cute but also wearing on my nerves.Does she not think I’ll buy it?
“It probably costs as much as my house.”
“I’ll buy you ten. And a new house,” I state, trying to remain nonchalant. The alternative is to rage buy everything in the store—fuck, buy the whole store—just to prove a damn point.
“You’re insufferable,” she huffs, sliding around my frame, and walks back toward the leather jacket from before. “I’d like this, if that’s okay?”
A woman rushes for her, the magic words releasing her from invisible tether behind the counter. “Can I help you with anything else?” she asks.
Dale begins to shake her head. “Try on the black dress, just for fun.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and the clerks gaze flicks between us, trying to decide who here runs the purse strings.
“Fine,” she bites out. “I’m a large top, but medium bottom. What size do you suggest?”
I tune her out for a moment, filing away that information. I search around the room, my eyes zeroing in on each piece she’s touched since being in the store. When the woman ushers her to the fitting room, I stride to the counter where an elderly man decked in layers of turquoise is busy polishing rings.
I clear my throat, and his eyes snap up, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Yes sir, how can I help?”
“I’d like to get a collection of items for my—” I pause,what word best describes Dale? "If I point them out and tell you her size, can you package them for me and bring them by my hotel later this afternoon? I’ll pay whatever for delivery.”
