Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(62)

He chuckled. “I never said I didn’t speak Spanish.”

“Do you?”

“Un poquito.”

I smiled wide. “My mom will be pleased to hear that.”

“How often do you visit her?”

“Not as often as I would like,” I said, sighing. I put my hand over his on the gearshift. “I’ll probably go over there in a month when we’re done filming this movie.”

He gave me a sharp nod, opening his fingers to hold on to mine. “I would offer to go with you, but your Spanish is completely different than mine, and I probably wouldn’t understand anything you guys are saying.”

I laughed. “I’ll teach you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

I felt my heart expand. Was he serious? Gabe never cared about any of that, though he did go with me to see my mom a couple times when we first got married. I smiled at the memory of him eating a ridiculous amount of steak and getting a stomach ache for the rest of the trip. He was so funny then. So willing to please me. I sighed, looking out the window again. There was construction in the canyon we were near and I was grateful we were driving along it during the day. I always had a fear of driving so close to the edges of the canyons, despite the barricades that were supposed to keep the car from actually falling into it.

Victor pulled into the parking lot of Target a few minutes later. I couldn’t even imagine this Armani-suit-wearing man’s man at Target, and I couldn’t wait to experience it with him.

“Let’s get what we need first, like body wash,” he suggested, steering the cart to the right.

“Okay. Should we get snacks?” I asked, eyeing the chips on the way over.

“Are you planning on kidnapping me for more than a day?” he asked, looking over at me. I shook my head, smiling. I totally should, though.

“Then no snacks needed. We’ll go to dinner at the hotel.”

The hotel. Oh my God. I was going to stay at a hotel with this man. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to contain my giddiness. Much to Victor’s amusement, I sent Talon a text message and asked her if she could watch Bonnie. That’s why I don’t have pets, he’d said. I don’t have time for more stress. Shopping with Victor was worse than shopping with Talon or Chrissy. The guy took forever to decide what shorts he should buy: cargo or not. Then, button-up or polo. Then, socks for the shoes he had on or flip-flops? And all the while, he was acting weird, looking around, keeping his distance from where I was standing, not looking me in the eye. Somewhere between the men’s underwear and the pajamas, I got sick of it.

“Why are you acting so weird?” I asked, pivoting to face him with my hands on my hips.

“What do you mean?” he asked, picking up the bottom of the oversized Batman footie pajamas in front of him. Still avoiding my eyes. “Who the hell buys this?”

“Victor.”

“Really, though, who over the age of twelve months wear this?” he said, ignoring me.

“Victor,” I said, raising my voice. I felt my face burning with anger. “Stop looking at the ridiculous pajamas and look at me right now.”

He whipped his head to look at me, letting his hands drop to his sides. Now that I had his full attention, his eyes on mine like that, I lost my train of thought.

“What?”

“Why are you acting distant?” I asked, lowering my voice and stepping closer to him.

He let out a heavy sigh and stepped even closer, until we were toe to toe and reached his hand out to take mine.

“My mind is just . . . occupied.”

“Occupied,” I repeated, taking his hand and wrapping it around my body so he was holding me against his chest. He dropped his face into my hair and inhaled deeply.

“Occupied,” he murmured against my ear.

“We’re far enough from home that we can act like we know each other, Vic.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he said, dropping a kiss on my temple, and another on my cheek. “For the rest of the weekend, you’re the only thing occupying my mind, okay?”

I pulled back to look at him. “Only this weekend?”

He looked at me for a beat. “Oh, Nicole. What am I going to do with you?”

He pressed his lips against my forehead as he dropped his hands and started to walk toward the T-shirts, shaking his head as he did. I smiled when I heard him rambling about how much time I occupy in his mind. He went back to looking at every piece of clothing in the men’s section. What shorts should he get? Cargo or not? Khakis or denim?

“Are you kidding me, Victor?” I demanded, finally. I took the cargo shorts, the non-cargo shorts, the polo, the button-up, the socks, and the flip-flops and threw it in the cart. “You act like you can’t afford all of it.”

He pointed at me. “That’s the kind of mentality that makes people Target’s bitch.”

“Yeah, well, I was put in that category a long time ago. I don’t plan on getting out of there any time soon. Besides, Red Card.”

He shook his head, but kept walking toward the women’s section. I took two seconds while he was on the phone to get what I needed before moving to the underwear. Suddenly Victor told his caller that he “needed to go because he had something important to do.” I rolled my eyes as I sorted through the bras.