She did snag some pepper spray before herding Rok to the men’s department.
“Well? What do you think?” He emerged from the dressing room in jeans and a T-shirt, incongruous and out-of-context. With skin as shiny as a new dime, a mohawk like a wire scrub brush, six toes on each bare foot—that was something she hadn’t known—the attire emphasized his alienness.
Then his hesitant, earnest gaze sought her approval, and the world tilted. Her opinionmatteredto him.He likes me. Helike-likes me. He wants me to like him back.
Her willingness to help him suddenly made perfect, if shocking sense. I like-like him, too.
Chemistry, not expediency, was the glue holding them together. How could she be attracted to a Progg? How could she like him? Find him engaging? Wish to help him? Didn’t that make her a traitor, no better than a colluder?
Except, in her heart, she truly believed he wasn’t like the other invaders. People couldn’t hide their truecolors forever; eventually, actions revealed character. The trio’s had—their lack of engagement and the inconsistent stories had signaled something was rotten in St. Louis.
Rok wasn’t a killer. She would literally bet her life on it.
She wet her dry lips. “You look nice. The shirt fits perfectly. How are the jeans? Not too tight? Are they comfortable?”
“They’re good. I’ve never worn anything like this.”
“Let me see the waist.”
He lifted the shirt.
The man boasted the best set of six-pack abs she’d ever seen. Her gaze slid up to his broad shoulders, thick biceps, then back to the fabulous abs. “Yummy—uh, I mean they fit. Here—try on these cargo shorts while I find you some shoes.”
He ducked into the dressing room again, and she fled to the shoe department to catch her breath. The man’s bod was seriously hot.
Kevin had followed her. “Okay, I like him. I admit it,” she told the dog. “But I promise to take it slow. Make sure I know what I’m dealing with.”
Kevin didn’t judge; he just listened in his thoughtful doggy manner.
She guessed on size 13 running shoes, figuring the wide toe box would best accommodate the extra digit, and hurried to the men’s department.
Rok wore the cargo shorts.
He has nice legs, too.“Shorts look good,” she said. “You changed shirts.”
He ran a hand over his chest. “I liked the fish.” Sporting a picture of a bass, the tee stretched taut over his muscular chest.
“Try these on.” She handed him the sneakers and followed him to the dressing room, where he sat on the bench. She had to show him how to lace the shoes. “How’s the room? Do your toes rub?”
“No.”
She pressed on the toe to check. He had plenty of room. She’d picked the right size.
When he stood up to walk, his eyes widened. “They’re comfortable. Spongy!” He bounced on the balls of his feet.
Her own shoes, comfortable sneakers she could run in, had saved her life. She checked her wristwatch. “It’s four o’clock. The Gillioz isn’t far, maybe ten minutes by bike, but we should go. We’d talked about getting there early.”
“I didn’t realize it was so late,” he said.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” They’d been in the store for hours.
“I did have fun.”
“I did, too,” she said. “Are you going to wear the new clothes?”
“Yes. I like them.” He smoothed his hand over his chest again and grinned like a little kid who’d been given Mickey Mouse ears at Disneyland.He’s so darn cute.
Life was about to get interesting.
