Shimmy Bang Sparkle(3)

“So you in here shopping for yourself?” I asked her as I checked her out, moving my gaze down and back up. “Diamonds and girls and all that?”

If I was good at the up-and-down, she was better. She went slower, was more deliberate, and was way more obvious. Her stare was greedy, and I dug it. Her eyes traveled down from my face to my jaw. Down my throat. Down each of my shirt buttons like she wanted to undo each one. With that stare, she took the power right out of my hands. I fucking loved it. That confidence and that fire. Her eyes landed on my belt, stayed there a beat, and came back up. “Why do I think you’re not here looking for a tie pin?”

“Got plenty at home already.” I undid the button on my right cuff and began to roll up my sleeve. She watched me do it, and I watched her watching me. She pursed her lips at first, like she was pressing lipstick on her already perfectly pink lips. Rolling up my sleeve to show off some ink made her stop pursing. And bite her bottom lip.

How you doin’? “I’m Nick.”

Her eyes slid along my forearm, lingering for a second on my tattoos before moving up my shirtsleeve. She reached out her hand for mine. “I’m Stella.”

The handshake was a solid one—none of that wimpy cold-fish shit. Before I could flip it back on her, giving her some line like, You might be named for a star, but I’m gonna be the one to make you see them, the saleswoman came to check on us, her keys jingling on a ring, which was attached to the top of her skirt. She tottered when she walked, like her ankles were tired, or like the carpet was too thick to keep the heels steady.

“There’s your Prince Charming!” said the saleswoman, glancing from me to Stella and back again. “Aren’t you two perfect together?”

Whoa, shit. It was a shock, but only for a second, because in the mirrors past where Stella stood, I saw the two of us standing side by side. We didn’t just look good together; we looked damned good together.

So I met Stella’s stare, and she inhaled, holding her breath for an instant. We locked eyes; it was the sexiest game of chicken that ever was.

Stella broke first. She blinked once, slow and calm. “Don’t know,” she said, beginning to smile. “I don’t know if he’s ready to make an honest woman out of me.”

Awwwwww, yeah. Bring it on, beautiful. She was adorable. A blush made her cheeks brighten, and her eyes got wide and innocent. She was a sexy little chameleon, and I liked her style. Two minutes ago, she’d been undressing me with her eyes. Now she was playing the embarrassed fiancée, not sure if she was worthy of a year’s salary on her finger. But the last thing I was interested in right then was making her honest. “Been ready since the day I met you.”

If she was shocked or surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she pinned her tongue between her teeth and let out a nervous, breathy puff from her nose. She swallowed hard and placed her right hand to her cheek. “It’s an awful lot of money for something so tiny, Nick.”

We locked eyes for three . . . two . . . one. “You’re worth it, beautiful.”

Again, with the pursed lips, the nose wrinkle, and a quick, hot blush.

The saleswoman jingled her keys. “Well, don’t worry about that! We have a number of payment plans to suit every budget,” she said, now addressing me alone. “You’ll only marry her once. Right?”

In my head appeared a motivational poster from the art room in jail. It was a guy cave diving, somewhere green and lush. Imagine the life you want and live it. I took Stella’s hand in mine, like we were standing at a goddamned altar. I fussed with the ring, moving it side to side. Her skin was silky soft, and her hand fit perfectly in mine. I gave her hand a squeeze, and she did the same. Electricity had nothing on that buzz. “This the best you’ve got?” I asked.

The saleswoman peered over the counter at the empty spot in the display case—a spinning velvet display platform, no bigger than a silver dollar. “That’s our two-carat princess cut, sir.” She smiled quickly and glanced sheepishly at the Rolex clock on the wall. “Just so you know, I’ve got to close up shortly here.” She rolled her eyes. “Inventory. Sorry.” She tottered off to the front door, flipping the sign so that the side facing us went from COME AGAIN to OPEN.

Stella gripped my hand tighter, and her eyes moved back and forth between mine like she wasn’t sure which one to focus on. Or was too nervous to decide. “What do you think, sweetie?” she asked.

The wink had dinged me like a BB; sweetie was a sucker punch to the sternum. People had called me a shitload of things, almost none of them nice, but nobody had ever called me sweetie. Never in my life. On her lips, it sounded perfect.

It was time to give her some of her own medicine. I moved my eyes up her bare arm, along the delicate edge of her collarbone, across the hollow of her throat. I wondered about that pink bra I’d seen and if it matched her underwear. I thought about her tan lines and what kind of pattern her bikini bottoms would’ve left behind. She was making me think about things that I hadn’t thought about in months; every earthquake has a warning tremor.

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.” I ran my thumb over the back of her hand. “It’s all yours.”

She bit her lip again, hard enough to make that pretty pink flesh flash with white.

The saleswoman checked her watch and drummed her sparkly fingers on the glass case. “I’m really sorry, you two. I do need to close up.”