Page 41 of Resisting Mr. Granville

I look at the cashier, who is confused as she hands the bag to Milo.

“Thank you,” he says to the cashier, grabbing the bag and turning around, lightly touching my butt to move me forward toward the exit.

I’m startled, torn between two different authorities, my instincts confused about which one we have to listen to. The saleslady works here, but Milo is a whole adult. Surely, if he had to listen to her, he would.

He doesn’t. He murmurs, “Come on,” and pulls me toward the mouth of the store.

The saleslady chases after us. “There were other customers in the changing rooms who claim they heard the two of you inside the same room.”

“Clearly, they’re mistaken,” Milo says, not bothering to slow down.

“They pointed out—and now I remember—you werenotstanding outside the dressing room when I led them in.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, I need you to come with me.”

Milo finally stops and turns around so fast, the woman has to fall back a step to stop from bumping into him. “If I were you, I’d stop harassing paying customers beforeyouget in trouble,” he tells her firmly, raising his eyebrows. “You’re making my girlfriend feel very uncomfortable with the way you’re chasing us around, drawing attention like this when she’s trying to make an intimate purchase.”

The woman swallows her rage, her gaze flickering to me behind him.

“Now, I can tell the fact that she’s my girlfriend annoys you—even though it’s absolutely none of your business—and I imagine that’s why you’re coming at us like this. But I’d urge you to consider this: I just spent a good amount of money here, but with the way you’re chasing me around trying to embarrass me like I’m some kind of criminal, I might not be inclined to come back. If a manager gets involved, do you think I’ll be the one to get in trouble, or do you think you will?”

Her resentment bubbles just under the surface, but I can tell by the way she lifts her chin and her expression settles, she’s seeing the sense in what he’s saying.

Milo doesn’t bother talking to her anymore; he turns and grabs my hand, then hauls me out of the store.

My heart hammers in my chest as I let him haul me toward the food court exit where we parked. “I thought we were toast,” I tell him.

He looks back, smirking faintly as he drops my hand and slows to fall into step beside me. “Nah. I wouldn’t get you in trouble.”

That is so purely a lie, I can’t hold back a laugh. “Yeah, right. You wouldneverdo that.”

“Never. I’m an angel,” he states.

I shake my head at him, still smiling as we escape the mall—mercifully,withoutbeing set upon by security.

Milo loads my last bag in the backseat of his SUV while I hop in the passenger side seat. While he’s getting in and starting the car, I check my phone to see if I’ve missed anything important.

There’s a text from my mom that reads simply, “Where are you?”

It was sent a while ago but I didn’t notice. I text back, “At the store.”

She responds right away. “I thought you worked today.”

“Didn’t have my uniform,” I answer.

“Where did you sneak out to last night?”

“I didn’t sneak out, I left,” I text back, my annoyance levels rising.

“Where did you go?”

“To a friend’s.”

“You don’t have friends,” she states.

I narrow my eyes at the screen, then slide the phone back into my purse without responding. I’m not going to let her ruin my good day.

---