Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(50)

I then dialed my adoptive parents’ number and spoke to Jean, who sounded both tense and relieved to hear my voice. I told her that taking off with Navan wasn’t something I would normally do but, given that it was my last summer before college, I kind of got swept up in the spontaneity of it all. I winced internally even as I said the words, knowing that it really didn’t sound like me, but she seemed to buy it. Though, she still wanted me to come home so she could see me face to face, and was glad when I suggested bringing Navan along. We agreed to meet at noon the next day.

Navan and I retired to bed soon after the conversation, though I barely slept, tossing and turning, wondering what tomorrow would bring—the stunt we were planning to pull off far eclipsing any nerves I had about the meeting with my parents. It didn’t seem like Navan slept much either, judging by how much he tossed and turned on the other side of the room.

We left the hotel with plenty of time the next morning, and stopped by a store on our way to the subway to buy some more suitable clothes.

“What sort of outfit would your dream boyfriend wear?” Navan wondered as we walked through the racks of clothing. “This?” He stopped in front of a purple velour suit and ran his fingers down the sleeve. “Pair this bad boy with a lime green bow tie?”

I snorted. “Um, that is not what my dream boyfriend would wear.”

“Well, show me then.”

There were suits of all sorts—linen, tweed, velour. Dress shirts with white collars folded into perfect rectangles in clear plastic packaging. Rows of ties in a rainbow of colors. He would’ve looked good in any of it, but we were going to Jean and Roger’s, not some white collar corporate event.

We wandered over to the casual section. “How about I show up in this?” Navan asked, holding up a gray waffle-weave bathrobe. “Really make a good first impression.”

I stifled a laugh. “How about this instead?” I pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger. “Jeans and . . . this.” I grabbed a plain black t-shirt.

“I like it,” he said. “What about you?”

“You’ll look good in it. It’s classic.”

“No, I meant, what about you for clothes? What are you going to wear?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Oh. We can head over to the ladies’ section. But first you should try those on to make sure they fit.”

Navan held the jeans up. “Eh, I’m pretty good at eyeballing things. These are a size too small. And the legs look too short.”

“Okay.” I slid those jeans back on the hanger and put it on the rack. I grabbed the next size up. “You should still try them on. The dressing room is right here.”

He went in with the jeans and the t-shirt. “I’ll wait right here,” I said, sitting down on a leather bench that was right outside the dressing room. A three-way mirror was in front of me, reflecting three of me back.

“Uh . . . I might need the next size up,” Navan called, stepping out of the dressing room. The jeans fit perfectly, but the shirt was way too small—his muscles strained against the fabric and the bottom of the shirt just barely grazed the waistband of the jeans.

I laughed and went back to where the shirts were, grabbing one two sizes up. “Here you go,” I said.

He came out of the dressing room again a few seconds later, arms outstretched. “How do I look now?”

I felt like whistling. Damn good was how he looked. “Perfect,” I replied.

We made our way over to the ladies’ section, where there were dresses of every style and color imaginable.

“How about this one?” Navan remarked, holding up a ridiculously gaudy yellow and white polka dot dress with a long, sweeping skirt and white bow in the back.

“That is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” I announced. I went over to a rack of maxi dresses, where I grabbed a floral print racerback one. “This one will do.”

“Okay, I agree that’s better.” He smiled, and I could tell he was genuinely enjoying himself. I wondered what the shopping experience was like in Vysanthe—if they even had shops.

“Should I come in the dressing room and help you try it on? A good boyfriend would do that, right?”

For a crazy split-second I wasn’t actually sure if he was joking, but then I looked at him, and he raised a dark brow, a spark of humor twinkling in his eyes.

“I think I can manage,” I replied, simultaneously trying not to laugh and not blush. I was sure getting a good dose of relaxed Navan during this little outing… I guessed there weren’t many occasions when he could flex his personality like this—be whoever the heck he wanted to be. Certainly not back in his homeland. And he was clearly taking full advantage of that with me… Not that I was complaining. I found upbeat Navan incredibly cute.

In the dressing room, I was glad to find that the dress I’d chosen fit, and it looked great on me, if I did say so myself. It highlighted the curve of my waist, and the pattern brought out the blue in my eyes. I ripped the tag off so I could pay for it without having to change first, took one last look at myself, and then backed out of the changing room.

As I reemerged, Navan was standing, waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw me, he froze, and I could have sworn his eyes lit up.

“Oh, that…” He cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. He uncrossed his arms and took a step back, giving me a long once over. “That… looks much better on you than my shirt,” he concluded, his eyes spanning the length of my legs and returning to my face, his lips curved in an admiring smile.