“Yes I have been to a mall before,” he muttered.
“The Galleria doesn’t count,” I told him, referring to the huge shopping center in Houston with all the designer stores.
He blinked those beautiful light eyes down at me. “I’ve been to several malls,” he insisted. “A long time ago.”
I groaned and shoved at the elbow he hadn’t gotten work done on, earning a small smile. “Well don’t steal anything because I won’t bail you out, okay?”
“Yes, schnecke.”
“Good.” I grabbed his wrist and gave him a tug in the direction of one of the stores I needed to visit.
The German looked at every store and booth we walked by until I found one of the businesses I was looking for. Right in the center of the aisle were the massage chairs and masseuses my dad loved coming to every time he went to the mall. “Let me get a gift certificate real quick,” I told him after I’d stopped right by the booth. He nodded and watched as one of the male masseuses rubbed down a woman’s shoulders.
“You want one?” I asked after paying for a gift certificate.
He shook his head.
“Sure?”
He nodded. “What’s next?”
“A new pair of tennis shoes.” I pointed at the store close by. “He never buys himself new shoes, so we all have to buy him some, otherwise he’ll wear the same pair until they’re taped together.”
I could have sworn he smiled as he walked alongside me into the shoe store. I knew exactly what I was getting, even though I wished Kulti wasn’t around to watch. He was busy looking at the rows on the walls when the store employee came over.
“Can I help you?” the young guy asked, eyeing me with a little too much interest considering I was probably almost ten years older than him.
I pointed at the pair I wanted, careful to keep my back to the German a few feet behind me and said, “Size nine and a half, please.”
The employee nodded in approval. “The RK 10s in black?”
I bristled at the fact he was talking about them out loud. “Yes, please.”
“We have the Kulti 10s on sale for women,” he offered, pointing at the shoes on the opposite side of the store.
“Just the men’s,” I smiled at him.
“The 9s are buy one, get one half off,” he kept going.
“I’m all right. Thanks, though.”
He shrugged. “I’ll be back, then.”
Thank God. I turned around to see the German holding a running shoe up to his face with interest.
“Those are nice,” I chipped in.
Those green-brown eyes flicked up to mine and he nodded in agreement. “Did you find what you wanted?” he asked, setting the shoe back on the rack.
“Yes.” I scratched my cheek and his eyes immediately narrowed. “The employee is getting them for me right now.” Knowing I needed to change the subject, I asked, “Are you getting anything?”
“Here you go,” the unfamiliar voice said from behind me a second before the employee walked around and held out the box.
The big swoosh mark on the top of the box wasn’t a big deal, but the guy pulled the lid and tissue paper back and there they were. The Reiner Kulti 10th edition in black.
“Perfect,” I sort of choked out, avoiding the gaze that had locked on my face. “I’ll take them.”
“Absolutely not,” the German snapped from right next to me.
“I’m taking them,” I insisted, ignoring him.
“Sal, you are not buying those,” he insisted.
The employee looked back and forth between us, his expression confused.
“I buy my dad shoes every birthday and I’m getting these for him. This is what he’d want,” I gritted out, still avoiding his gaze.
“Sal.”
“Rey.”
His hand touched my elbow. “I can get these for you for free,” he said in that exasperated tone he used when his accent really began to bleed through. “In every color. Next year’s edition.” His fingers pressed into the soft indent of the inside of my elbow. “Don’t buy them.”
“Do you work for Ni—“ the employee started to say, his eyes wide and way too interested. Thankfully he wasn’t paying enough attention to the man standing in front of him, otherwise he would have known.
“You mind giving us a second?” I cut him off with an apologetic smile.
What was he going to say? No? Grudgingly, he nodded and turned away.
I finally cradled my guts to me and faced Kulti, who had put his hands on his hips looking just shy of exasperated. Patience, Sal. “Tell me why you don’t want me to buy them.”
“I don’t want you to spend the money.”