Page 18 of Selling Innocence

“We’re about two towns over from where you were picked up and where we live, so I doubt anyone here would be looking for you. As far as you running away? You don’t strike me as the type brave enough to run.”

“You’re right about that…” Her voice trailed off, but what I had meant as a joke seemed to hit a sore spot for her.

Instead of pressing the topic, I moved on. “A list works for small things, but you need clothing. It’d be a bigger headache for me to have to pick that out, and it would be better for you to try it all on.” I rubbed my hand against the side of my neck as I admitted the last part. “I don’t have the most experience with women, so I couldn’t even guess at everything you need or what might fit. I could have sent Vance, but who knows what you’d get if I did that.”

She laughed, the sound lyrical and sweet. It was the first time I’d seen her laugh. “Heavens forbid he was left to his own devices. I’d probably just get lingerie and sex toys.”

Her words were so frank that I inhaled saliva, the action causing a coughing fit. I hit my fist against my chest to try to regulate my breathing as Kenz patted my back.

Which threw me for another loop. People didn’t just touch me—certainly not ones after I’d bought them. This was either a sign of Kenz being stupid or simply far too trusting.

I had a bad feeling it was the second one…

“Sorry,” I said once I caught my breath.

“You can’t be that shocked by my joke.”

“Young girls didn’t speak like that in my day.”

“Your day? You don’t look that old.”

“I’m forty-three—old enough to see you as a young girl.”

She chuckled again as though I were the adorable kid. “Well, I’m sorry for shortening your life then, given you don’t have a lot of years left.”

“You’re surprisingly mouthy for someone in your position,” I pointed out. “Most people would be a lot more afraid.”

“I guess I’m less afraid of you now that I see mentioning sex toys will cause you to choke. Besides, danger isn’t that new a thing for me.” She went to tuck her hands into her pockets, but it was like she’d just remembered she wasn’t wearing anything with pockets. Her cheeks reddened and she crossed her arms instead.

“People like you don’t usually get comfortable with danger. They don’t get used to anything uncomfortable. Money makes it so you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“No? I don’t go into any job or mission without knowing everything I can about it. As soon as we heard about you, I did my research. Mackenzie Fox, age twenty-one, a first-year fine arts major. You lived in Washington with your father, Harold Fox, when you weren’t in boarding school until he passed away last year. You have a trust fund with roughly ten million in it, but it appears well run and you don’t overspend, so I expect that amount will grow due to investments. No major health issues beyond diabetes and no legal trouble. How am I doing?”

She swallowed hard. Nervous? Did she just not care for how much I knew? It had to make her feel at a disadvantage.

Though, at the same time, I knew my comment was just petty. Grow up, Hayden.

It was strange, because usually, I read people well enough. However, now, dealing with this young girl who should have been so easy to categorize and figure out, I kept getting confused.

Just who is this girl?

Kenz

Having a shadow while I shopped was far from new. I’d spent most of my life having people follow me for my own safety. It had either been bodyguards or people associated with my schools. It was only once I’d come to Florida that I’d started to do things on my own.

It meant having Hayden with me felt normal. In fact, I had to give him credit.

I’d had good bodyguards and bad ones, ones who were so distracted I wondered what good they were and others who remained so close that they stepped on my heels.

Hayden knew the line between those and walked it as though the most natural thing in the world for him. He checked the dressing room prior to me entering, then remained outside with his back toward the door until I’d finished. He remained close enough to intervene if needed but otherwise remained out of my way. If he wasn’t a criminal who had bought me at a black-market auction, I might have considered hiring him in the future.

“Do you have shampoo?” I asked.

“Of course we do. Unless you think we don’t bathe?”

“Men like to use that six in one nonsense. That dries my hair out,” I explained.

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