Fair Game (The Rules #1)(17)

“Is everything okay?” A large woman almost as tall as me sweeps down the aisle, coming to a stop directly in front of us. She’s wearing a long black velvet dress dotted with clear rhinestones and flowing sleeves, her pitch black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She looks like a stereotypical witch. “Jade, are you helping this darling young man?”

Ah, her boss. And an ally. I can sense it. “She’s trying her best,” I say, my voice filled with disappointment.

The look Jade shoots me is the deadliest stare she can muster, which is pretty damn deadly. “I know him,” she mutters.

“Doesn’t mean he should be treated poorly.” The woman makes a tsking noise and holds her hand out toward me, her long pointed nails a sparkly black. “I’m Enid. I own Light My Fire.”

“Shep.” I shake her hand, smiling at her. She smiles in return. Way more friendly than Bitch Face. “I like your store.”

Enid beams. “Thank you. Do you want me to show you around?”

Jade starts backing up, the smug smile on her face telling me she thinks she won.

“Ah, I appreciate the gesture but I’m sure you’re extremely busy, being the owner and all. And Jade’s not that bad. She just likes to give me grief.” I send an innocent smile in Jade’s direction and she gives me the finger. Lucky for her, she’s standing behind her boss who doesn’t even notice.

“Jade, treat this boy right. You hear me?” Enid turns to send Jade a pointed look.

“Of course,” Jade says through clenched teeth. “I’ll give him top notch treatment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” I say with a wink.

He is insufferable. I always thought that word was ridiculous but now? It fits stupid insufferable Shepard Prescott to a T. How the hell did he find me here? I don’t know if I believe him when he says it’s a coincidence. I think he tracked me down. I should find that totally creepy. I should be calling the cops, filing a restraining order, whatever it takes to keep him away from me.

The problem is…I sort of enjoy our banter. The way he smiles at me, his dark, dark eyes full of unspoken promises. Promises I wouldn’t mind exploring. I like how he always seems to find everything amusing. Like life is just one big joke and he’s the only one in on the punch line.

Every time he touches me I feel a spark. A zip of heat just beneath the surface, rumbling under my skin. I tell myself to ignore it. Tell myself it means nothing.

He feels it too though. It’s in the way he pulls his hand away from me like I shocked him. It’s in that subtle smolder of his velvety gaze. He’s aware of it. Just like I’m aware of it.

Chemistry.

Beyond the chemistry bit, which could be totally fleeting, who knows, why would he want to find me? I’m not that special. He could have anyone he wanted. He’ll find out quick I’m a boring lay when he has adventure written all over him. I’m the girl who has performance anxiety. He’s the guy who probably revels in the performance. I’m the one who runs from it.

Clearly, he needs to move on and forget all about me.

“Come on,” I tell him wearily once Enid heads back to her office. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Sorry I’m such a drag,” he drawls, his deep, delicious voice wrapping all around me, making me feel warm. I tell myself to ignore it.

So I do.

I show him a variety of candles, all the while trying my best to deny the tension between us. Our arms brush against each other by accident and it’s like my skin’s been lit on fire. I catch him watching me and I feel my cheeks heat. And when he purposely touches me, his voice close to my ear as he grabs my arm, I want to sag into him. Feel his arm come around my waist, his other hand slip beneath my chin before he lifts my head up so our lips can meet…

“I’ll take this one,” he says firmly, handing me a giant three wick pure white candle. “I think my mother will like the scent.”

“But it’s white.” It’s a gardenia-scented candle, which I love but I always prefer a candle with a little color. White is boring.

“It’s perfect. Everything in their house is white,” he says. “It won’t disrupt her color scheme and trust me, that’ll make her happy.”

Ugh. I bet his parents live in a sterile mansion. I bet they have a ton of servants and the mother never has to leave the house or lift a finger. She probably sits on a pure white velvet couch and lounges with her white dog while eating white chocolate bon bons.

That sounds perfectly awful.

“Where do your parents live?” Okay fine I’m trying to find out information about him because I know next to nothing. And I’m just asking to be polite. That’s what good little sales associates do.

“East coast. Connecticut. In fact, I was wondering if your store ships?” He lifts his brows, his expression almost pleading.

I ignore his question. “You don’t have an accent.”

He lowers his brows into a frown. “Say what?”

“You’re from the east coast? I don’t detect an accent.”

“I went to boarding school for a few years. They beat any and all accents out of their students.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I moved around a lot. I’ve lived in Europe, Manhattan, Los Angeles, Miami…” His voice trails off. “My parents never like to stay in one place for too long.”