He looked at her as she started looking through the rack aimlessly, too.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased about the thank you and she smirked, shook her head, and looked through the shirt rack.
“So how did you break your arm?” he asked and her dainty manicured fingers stopped and gripped the hanger on one shirt.
“I was a bit clumsy and broke a heel in a crack in the sidewalk. I used my arm to brace the fall.”
“Ah, so you’re a klutz?” he teased, staring at the shirt he was holding. He heard her gasp and then he looked at her, eying her over. “A very beautiful klutz,” he added, surprising himself by being so flirty and forward, and obviously shocking her. Her face turned a nice shade of red and she looked panicked.
“So what size did you say you were?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“Extra large. Tall, too, if ya have it,” he said, letting the words move slowly off his lips. Damn, his cock was hard, and his mind imagined getting lost in exploring her sexy little body for hours upon hours. She was really something else. No woman ever got him this hot and bothered and definitely not in some chance meeting in the damn clothing store. He imagined exploring her breasts with his mouth—hell, every inch of her—slowly, carefully. She was feminine and petite, dainty, and he would be protective, cautious, and caring in his exploration. His gut clenched. Could he be too much of a man for such a sweet little angel to handle? He felt unworthy. Sort of unconfident for thinking he could get a woman like her, hell, be enough for a woman so sweet. He shook his head. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I thinking?
“Of course we do. It’s a common size around here,” she said, deflating his bubble and making him squint at her. Then she locked gazes with him and seemed to bite her lip in an attempt to stop from laughing. She did like him. She was definitely attracted to him, but she wasn’t the flirty type. Hell, maybe inexperienced and he was older.
They looked through the shirts and he pulled out one in gray.
“This one?” he asked, holding it up against his chest. She shook her head.
“Why not? I kind of like gray.”
“It’s okay, but it doesn’t do much for you. This color would be great,” she said and took out a deep blue color. He wasn’t too sure as he took the shirt and looked at it.
“Hold it against the front of you and look into the mirror over here,” she said and when she placed her hand on his arm to turn him and direct him toward the mirror, hot damn did he feel something. Tiny little vibrations of awareness rocked through his veins. She pulled away, but not before he saw a similar reaction in her eyes. She felt it, too.
“What do you think?” she asked, standing next to him.
He stared at the reflection in the mirror but then his eyes went to Caroline. Her head barely reached his neck. The sight made him feel protective, like she needed a strong capable man to watch over her.
“Look, it brings out the blue in your eyes. It’s a great color for you.”
“You think so?” he asked, feeling a bit awkward. He hated shopping for anything. He disliked staring at himself in a mirror. Yet here he was conversing about clothes with this woman he just met, and he didn’t lose interest or get angry and end the conversation abruptly. In fact he wanted to know more about her.
“I’m going to Spencer’s tomorrow night to listen to a friend’s band play.”
“Oh, Cowboy Corruption?” she asked, surprising him as she turned back toward the rack. She pulled another two shirts out, one in black and one in burgundy.
“If you prefer these colors, they would look nice, too,” she said.
“You know the band?” he asked.
“No, my sister’s friends are going and they were talking about it. They’re excited.”
“Well they’re a good band and the guys are talented. Are you going, too?” he asked her and felt nervous. Holy fucking shit, why the hell was he so damn nervous? He was fucking thirty years old. He faced death head-on in the service, and this petite little angel was making his palms sweat and his heart race. His dick felt so fucking hard he prayed she didn’t look down at his crotch. He pulled the shirt in front of him to hide his obvious desire.
“I don’t know. It’s not really my thing.”
“To hang out and listen to a cool band?”
“To go to bars and stuff. I’m not really into hanging out,” she said.
Before he could ask her anything else, she interrupted. “Did you need anything else? I need to finish cleaning up the mess I made,” she said, and now he was even more intrigued by the woman.