Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(79)

In front of the kids, the dogs, the neighborhood in general, he kissed me senseless, and Lord could the man kiss. His hands stayed where they were, cupping my cheeks with a soft touch, but it didn’t matter. He turned my thoughts into puffs of smoke with just his lips on mine.

When he pulled back he was smiling, and pandemonium surrounded us.

Ivan and Mat were both shouting questions at us. Embarrassing questions.

“Was his tongue in your mouth, boo?” Mat asked, sounding disgusted.

“Does this mean you’re going to have a baby?” Ivan asked, sounding more disgusted.

“Did you just give each other cooties?” Mat asked, sounding less disgusted, and more fascinated, with that possibility.

“Do you have to get married now?”

All of these questions were accompanied by the dogs howling or barking. Loudly.

I looked up at Tristan, saw the twinkle in his eye, and started laughing. We both did.

We didn’t stop until we’d herded the kids and dogs into the house.

“Did you already eat lunch?” Tristan asked, heading straight for the kitchen.

“We did.”

“Oh,” he said stopping, coming back to help me gather up leashes. “Any plans today?”

“Not really. Just watching the boys until dinnertime.”

“Jerry’s home. He was out late, but he should be up soon. I’ll tell him to watch the boys while we go do some shopping.”

“Shopping? For what?”

“Shit for my apartment.”

“Boo, he said a bad word!” Mat shouted from less than two feet away, taking off his shoes.

“Fuck, sorry,” Tristan said, heard himself, then smacked his palm into his forehead. “My bad. Boys, will you go see if your dad is awake?”

They took off for Jerry’s room.

I waited until they were out of earshot to speak. “Shit for your apartment?”

“Yeah. You know, plates, silverware, pots, pans.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know why he didn’t have any of that stuff already, considering he was in his mid-twenties, so I didn’t ask.

“Come with me? You can come check out my apartment, help me get settled in.”

“Sure, if Jerry doesn’t mind.”

“He won’t,” he assured me.

Jerry was a good sport about the whole thing. He usually was. He took the boys to play in the backyard, and Tristan started tugging me toward the front door.

I pulled back. “I need to change. I can’t wear hot pink cheer shorts and a half-shirt to the store.”

He glanced back, giving me one of his mind-shattering once overs. “Yes you can. That outfit is f**king hot. Throw some flip flops on, and we’re good to go.”

I ran my hands through my messy hair. I’d washed it earlier, and hadn’t even brushed it before it dried. I’d been in a bit of a state.

Now it was a messy tangle down my back.

“I’m a mess, Tristan. Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable.”

He yanked me to him, pulling my head back by the hair to plant a kiss on my nose, his golden eyes smiling, dimples flashing. “You look drop-dead gorgeous. Most beautiful girl in the world. Perfect.”

He pulled back, giving me a firm slap on the ass. “Now get those flip flops on, and let’s go.”

I didn’t begin to know how to argue with that, and I’d be lying if I said that his flattery didn’t affect me. It always had.

“Where are we going to get all this shit?” I asked after we were in the car, and heading out of the community gates.

“Costco over by the Galleria Mall.”

“Costco?”

“Yeah Costco. You ever been there?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know you could get all of that stuff there.”

“Hell, yeah. You can get just about anything at Costco.”

And so we spent the afternoon shopping for his new apartment. I had to admit I enjoyed myself. We spent hours in the warehouse store, looking at everything, from sofas, to vitamins, to books, to camping gear. We wound up shopping for food to fill his empty fridge, founds some nice square white plates, silverware, pots, pans, glasses, and even paper towels.

We went through every aisle in the place, just looking at everything. It was one of those moments where I realized how fun everything was with Tristan. I could enjoy spending time doing just about anything with him.

He grabbed a bouquet of pale lavender roses. They were pale at the base, the color growing more vibrant at tips.

I smelled them, charmed by the unusual color.

“An exquisite flower for my exquisite girl.”

I blushed, at the compliment, and the fact that he’d called me his girl. I was scared to read too much into anything with him, but it was hard not to hope.

“These are for me?” I asked him, smelling them again.

We were in line, five carts back, and he tugged me to him, stroking a hand over my hair, giving me a look that could only be described as fond. “Of course they are.”

I felt myself having to blink back tears, calling myself a stupid girl as I glanced down at my feet. “No one but Bev has ever gotten me flowers before.”

His hand clenched in my hair, and I thought it was involuntary, because he loosened his hold almost instantly. “That makes me want to kill somebody, sweetheart.”