Under Locke(46)

The moment I took a step away to head back where Slim and Blue stood, I felt a faint pressure on my butt and turned to look over my shoulder to find Dex’s fingers creeping out of my back pocket.



Uh... what?



His fingers were in and out of my pant pocket so fast I almost wasn’t sure whether it actually happened or not, and before I could complain about him giving me back my money—and sticking his hand where it didn’t belong—he leaned his chest into me.



“Thanks for offerin’, babe,” he whispered, all hot breath on my skin.



It was unavoidable for me to shiver but at least I think I did it discreetly. Damn it, this laid-back Dex was something I didn’t know how to handle. It was almost possible for me to forget the shit he said and did on a daily basis.



It was right there, I could feel it. I could sense that draw in him that made people put up with him and his insane mood swings and temper.



Looking up at him towering over me all relaxed, face loose, tension gone, I nodded. “Well, you’re welcome at least. Thanks for inviting me.”



And he smiled at me while we made our way out with Slim and silent Blue.



I had to mentally tell myself to stop looking at the strange man I didn’t seem to understand, to focus on my slightly drunk coworkers. I had to physically shake myself awake to survive the next hour. Inspecting all three of them, I sighed with just a hint of exhaustion nipping at my shoulders and neck. “You suckers need a ride?”



Chapter Eleven



The last thing I expected to do the next day was to go to Costco.



With Dex.



In my car.



I mean, Costco, Dex, and my car shouldn't even belong in the same sentence, right? Dex and Costco?



But somehow that's where I found myself at five in the afternoon. Following Dex around the massive store, stocking up on toilet paper, paper towels, and random stuff like plastic utensils for Pins.



I'd shown up to work fifteen minutes early to find Dex outside—smoking. Gag. He'd given me that long, leisurely look that I didn't quite understand and tipped his head back, blowing a thick cloud of smoke from his lips in the opposite direction of where I stood. "We're openin' late," was exactly what he'd said before dropping the bomb on me.



Like I was going to complain. "Okay."



Dex had pushed off from the wall, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot. "Is your trunk big enough for a Costco run?"



In my head, there were tires squealing in protest to his comment. He wanted me to go with him? "Umm...I think so."



He smirked right before leaning down to pick up the crumpled butt. "All right. Let's go."



Crap.



I kept repeating crap over and over to myself as we walked toward the lot. I'd worked out most of the tension I felt toward Dex over the course of the last few weeks, and especially after seeing how nice and understanding he could be... well, I didn't feel that same resentment. That didn't mean that I was mentally prepared to hang out with him.



Or you know, go buy stuff together.



Twenty minutes later, Dex was pushing around a massive cart and heading toward the food section.



It should be said that the couple of times I'd been to the megastore, I'd seen plenty of men. Usually, they were always husbands or boyfriends, ranging from twenties to sixties or seventies. Some were good-looking, others were not. Some had tattoos, most didn't.



But I had never seen a man like Dex pushing around a cart. With his full-sleeved tattoos, peeping red ink on his neck, and Levi's that had broken in perfectly around his thighs—and butt, too—he was a sight. Then again, maybe I hadn't pictured men like Dex at all. Ever. They were like abominable snowmen.



Yet there he was with his little scrap of paper that he called a list, hunched over the lip of the cart, tossing in enough paper towels to last three months, and massive packages of toilet paper.



The first and only thing he said in the time between us parking and winding through the aisles was, “Grab whatever you want.”



“Thanks,” had been the response I gave him.



Then, nothing.



"You pissed off again?" Dex finally asked after we'd arranged the paper products to make room for the other stuff he planned on buying later on.



We hadn't really spoken much on the drive—he took the keys from me while we were crossing the street to the lot—and I hadn't made much of an effort since we'd walked into the store.



I looked over at him, taking in the dark green t-shirt that made his eyes look nearly black, and shook my head. "No. Why?"



Those normally brilliant blue eyes made a lazy trail from my face down, reminding me for some reason of the fact that he'd tucked his fingers into my back pocket at Mayhem the night before. "You're bein' all quiet, babe. It's weird."