My stomach flips traitorously.
The barista suddenly becomes very interested in the espresso machine.
Meanwhile, Daltyn casually hooks two fingers through the belt loop on the back of my jeans while we wait for our drinks. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
My pulse loses its damn mind. “Daltyn.”
“Hm?”
My voice comes out weaker than intended. “What are you doing?”
His eyes finally flick downward to where his fingers are still hooked possessively against me. A slow heat flashes behind those blue eyes before he releases me.
But not before my entire nervous system catches fire.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
OH???
THAT’S ALL HE HAS TO SAY???
Meanwhile, I’m trying not to lose my mind and melt into the damn floor.
The barista slides Daltyn’s coffee across the counter, not making eye contact as he calls Daltyn’s name. I’m both horrified and amused as Daltyn stalks to the counter, staring him down as he picks up his drink.
He turns toward me, but the intensity is still there.
And damned if I don’t like it. Maybe too much.
Thankfully, Daltyn ushers me out the door of the coffee shop. “I figured we could go shopping.”
I glance up at him. “Shopping?” Panic courses through me. “Not for more winter apparel, right?”
He chuckles. “No. Normal stuff.”
“Oh.” My cheeks burn. “I’ve been saving as much as I canbut?—”
He turns to me, one finger pressing over my lips. “I’m buying,” he says, firmly but quietly.
I sigh, and he shakes his head. “I mean it, Pey. Don’t sass me. I told you you’re no longer alone. I meant it.”
Butterflies swarm my stomach. His words elicit things I shouldn’t be feeling. At all.
He stares at me for a few beats before his finger leaves my lips.
I nod, my voice low and shaky as I say, “Okay.”
His smile makes my knees weak.
“Good. Let’s go.”
23
PEYTON
Shopping with Daltyn Guyer is not what I expected.
For one thing, he’s terrifyingly efficient.
