Shepherd’s wearing dark jeans and a simple gray henley that somehow manages to make his shoulders look even broader. The sleeves hug his biceps in a way that puts them on display and I have to actively remind myself not to lick my lips. His hair is slightly damp, like he showered right before coming here. He looks ridiculously out of place among the delicate dishes.
I grin. “Youlook terrified.”
“A little,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I feel like I’m going to break something just by existing in here.”
“That’s a valid fear.” I sip the coffee he brought—perfectly sweetened, which makes me wonder if he asked Mari how I take it or just got lucky. “There are rules to this place.”
“Rules?” His eyebrows lift. “No one mentioned rules.”
“Rule number one,” I say, leading him deeper into the store, “no rushing. Thrifting is about patience.”
He follows me, careful to keep his broad shoulders from knocking into the precariously stacked merchandise. “I can do patient,” he murmurs from behind me, his tone sounding almost like he isn’t talking about the items in this store at all.
“Rule number two: be open-minded. Sometimes the best finds are things you weren’t looking for.”
“Like bartenders who collect broken teacups?” he asks, his voice soft enough that only I can hear it.
My stomach does that stupid fluttering thing again. “Yeah…I guess.” I take another sip of my coffee simply to allow myself a moment to breathe and look at Shepherd Haynes in all his rough-and-tumble football-God glory. “How did you know, by the way?”
He tilts his head. “Know what?”
“How I like my coffee.”
“Oh.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I watched you make it at the bar once.” He shrugs. “And I pay attention.”
Of course he does. Shepherd Haynes notices everything. It’s equal parts flattering and unnerving.
Mari appears beside us, her vintage cat-eye glasses catching the light. “You two have fun. I’ll be up front if either of you need anything. The good stuff just came in yesterday, Sutton. Back corner, blue bin.” She squeezes my arm before disappearing behind a display of vintage lamps and making her way to the front of the shop.
I turn to Shepherd, suddenly aware that we’re alone—well, as alone as you can be in a jam-packed thrift store with Mari pretending not to eavesdrop from behind a bookshelf.
“So,” I say, taking another sip of the coffee, “what exactly brings you thrifting with me on your day off? Shouldn’t you be icing…something?” I gesture to his whole body.
He chuckles, the sound warming me more than the coffee. “I ice plenty. I’m usually my brother’s top priority when it comes to ice or heat or rehabilitation.
“Your brother?” I ask, my brows furrowed.
“My brother, Sebastian. He’s one of the team’s athletic trainers. He’s head of the department, actually.”
“Ah.” I nod. “I see. The non-trifecta brother. Must be nice having a brother sort of on your team.”
“Killian and Bishop, my other brothers, can tell you all about being on the same team, but yeah. Having Sebastian around isn’t half bad. I know he’s always got my best interest at heart.”
“You played a big game yesterday…”
“Tag.” He shrugs, playing off my words. “It was just a quick game of tag.”
I chuckle. “Right. But don’t kid yourself, Haynes. I’m sure it was full contact tag so give yourself some credit.”
“Right.” He beams. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Which probably means you should be resting today. So, what made you choose a thrift shop over lounging around and eating your protein?”
“I’ve never been thrifting before, like I said,” he tells me. “And I’m curious about what makes you love it so much.” He smiles, his eyes soft. “So, if it’s okay with you, I’ll follow your lead.”
And something about that hits me harder than it should.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for the full Sutton Price thrifting experience.”
