I picked up one of the oranges in the cup holder and began peeling it.
“You know what we need?” I said to him. “A bonfire.”
28
GRAYSON
Watching Lexi eat the orange was distracting. The smell filled the car, the juice ran down her chin, and the only reason I didn’t lean over and lick it off was that I was driving and needed to concentrate on the road.
It was a struggle.
“Mhhmm,” Lexi moaned as she took another juicy bite of the orange. “Nothing is better than this.” She slurped at the fruit. I dug my fingers into the steering wheel.
“Except eating it by the pool. We need to spiffy up your terrace. It’s almost pool season, and that desolate wasteland isn’t suited for a party.”
I did not like parties. I only went to parties if Marius dragged me or if it was a work event. I treated parties like a trial I had to endure. I hated parties, but I would agree to anything Lexi asked in that moment. She smelled like sunshine and citrus and what I imagined a family vacation would be like.
“Don’t worry,” Lexi was saying, “we’ll start you off small.” She licked the last of the orange juice off of her hand, her pink tongue lightly tracing up the side of her index finger.
I want that on my dick.
I abruptly wrenched the steering wheel, turning into a parking garage.
“There is a shop here where you can buy what you need.”
“The sunshine really must have gotten to you.”
“Or not,” I said.
“Too late. We’re already committed.” Lexi grinned.
The last foster mother I’d had before I’d been shunted into a group home for the remainder of my childhood loved to shop. That was the only thing she liked and the reason she had so many foster kids crammed like puppies in cages in her apartment while she collected the checks from the government. She would take us with her to carry her packages as she spent hours slowly trawling through discount warehouses looking for a deal.
I hated shopping, hated how it stretched out into an eternity. Buying Lexi those shoes had been the first time in my life I’d willingly gone shopping for something that wasn’t groceries.
Now here I was again.
Damn her and that damn orange.
The saleswoman in the upscale home goods store took a look at Lexi with her slightly sunburnt nose and her T-shirt and leggings, and though her facial expression didn’t change, I could see the dismissal in her eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asked, though it was clear she wanted to do anything but.
I stepped up behind Lexi, resting my hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
The woman’s eyes widened in surprise.
“But I want to find some furniture, and you said you liked this store,” Lexi protested.
I ground my teeth.
“You look like you have excellent taste,” Lexi said to the rude saleswoman.
If it were me, I would have told her that she just lost a sale based on her prejudice. However, somehow Lexi managed to convince the saleswoman in the next five minutes that they were best friends. Now the lady was showing her a selection of secret patio furniture. Lexi picked piece after piece.
“What?” she said when I protested. “Your terrace is huge, and you have one lone lounge chair. Not even two, just one, and nowhere to put your drink. Also can we get this?” she asked the saleswoman.
