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“You’re not a ranch girl, huh?”
I shrug. “No, I am. I think I always will be, but I never had the chance to do anything else.”
“You should stay with your mom. Try it out.”
I turn, eyeing him up. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep me closer.”
He shrugs, having some coffee.
“Maybe we should be fuck buddies,” he says gruffly. “Maybe, that’s all I’m thinking.”
My jaw drops. Anger returns, but this time it’s conflicted. I’m starting to wonder if comments like that are more made out of defensiveness than anything else.
“I am not your fuck buddy,” I say primly.
“Too bad.”
Swiveling on my heel, I walk to where the matching sweatpants hang. Without further ado, I take down a pair and sling them over his arm. He had his shot to be sweet, and he decided to be an asshole. I will be taking him up on that offer to pay. I grab a couple things that say New England across the boobs, some socks, more slides, and then move on to the jewelry. He follows silently, working his way through his coffee.
“You’re pissed,” he says finally.
“Nope,” I retort.
I pick up a gold bangle with a maple leaf and hook it around his finger. He raises his brows.
“Maybe don’t degrade me,” I say.
“Huh. You liked it before.”
“Not like that. You know that.”
“Alright. I won’t.”
I hook another bracelet around his finger. “Good boy.”
“Ah, I see how it is.”
Standing on my tiptoes, I remove a pink baseball cap and try it on. “Did your dick sit up and wag?”
He considers it, face sober. “Maybe a little.”
I can’t keep from smiling, so I turn my face away. “Good to know you’re into that.”
“Why?” His voice is forceful.
“Huh?” I hand him the hat.
“Why is it good to know that?” he asks. “I thought you didn’t want to keep fucking me.”
“I don’t. Figure of speech. Now, let’s go get me a latte.”
Not wanting to prolong the conversation, I cross the room and lean on the counter. He comes up behind me and dumps everything by the register.
“What did you get?” I ask.
“Black coffee.”
“Maple-roasted black coffee,” the clerk corrects.
