But now here we were, in a tiff because on our way out the door, glancing at my car I asked, “Oh yeah, where are the keys?”
The look on his face said it all. “Why do you need your keys?”
I had my answer without him speaking another word. He didn’t want to give me my keys back. He didn’t want me to go anywhere.
He didn’t say this.
We stared for a minute at one another in what felt like a stand-off.
I didn’t say I knew that this was his thinking and now it had been fifteen or twenty minutes of silent brooding in the car on the way to town.
***
He stops in front of a discount department store. A lower-end one that would sell hardware, greeting cards, cigarettes, cleaning supplies, and maybe have a few racks of discount clothing options.
I stare at the sign.
“This is the store,” he says and turns the truck off.
“Um, no,” I say. “I’m not buying a dress from here.”
He looks confused.
“A dress for around the house, a dress for traipsing to town or the beach, sure. Not a dress for a party where I get to meet the rest of your loved ones. And I need shoes. And not flipflops, either. I need something with a heel, something cute.”
“I don’t love them. I don’t even know them yet, Ivy.”
“Doesn’t matter. First impressions and all. I need something a little more upscale.” I pull my phone out and search for the closest dress shop.
“We’ll go to the furniture store first. It’s three doors that way,” he says, reaching for the door handle.
“No, Ty,” I inform. “The dress and shoes are the priority. Let’s do that first and then we can shop for furniture if there’s time. If. Furniture isn’t required in less than eight hours. A dress and shoes are. And I have to have time to get back and shower, do my hair and makeup. And what are you wearing anyway? We should get you some nice slacks and a new button-down. I wonder if they have a tall guy store around here.” I keep scrolling the options on my phone.
“I have plenty of clothes at home.”
“Ty, you have four shirts, three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and, what, two pairs of lounge pants? That’s not enough of a wardrobe for anyone.”
“It’s worked fine for me.”
“For supernatural hermit reasons, yes, but you need clothes for tonight. Maybe some new shoes. You have a pair of hiking boots and a pair of sneakers. You need something a little better.”
I knew the extent of the wardrobe because I’d reorganized his armoire yesterday and done the laundry the day before that.
“Okay, twenty-five minutes from here is a bigger town with more shopping. Take this road to the end and then it’ll take you in that direction.” I point.
“You don’t want to at least look?” he tries.
“Do you want to waste time?” I retort.
He shoots me a look of annoyance, but starts up the truck.
We have to buy gas a few stores later and at the third store we go to, an hour and a half from his place, I find a great dress, a fabulous pair of shoes, and I find him dark slacks and a gorgeous navy, nearly black dress shirt with green stripes the exact same color as his eyes. I also get him great new shoes.
Getting him to try clothes on is like pulling teeth. And he insists on paying, waving around a fat stack of cash, which I find annoying, but also sweet.
“This was not a werewolf issue, this is a guy issue,” I told him. “I could’ve shopped alone, but you insisted on coming and holding my keys hostage, so this is your reality, big guy.”
“We’re done? Can we go home?”
***
We don’t get back until four thirty, so I announce, “Okay, I’m taking a shower and then working on my hair before we have to head out. No sexy time!”
“No sexy time?” He frowns.
“Nope. There’s no time for sexy time.”
“There’s always time for sexy time,” he says, stalking in my direction.
I take off running with a giggle.
He smiles, realizing I’m teasing, and he catches me by hooking an arm around my waist. “Since you have a dress, sexy time is the new priority.”
“We have to get ready for the party.”
“Fuck the party,” he growls against the mark on my neck and yep, full-body shiver from me.
“No way. They’re expecting us. And I wanna show off my pretty dress and fantastic shoes.”
“To who?” His eyes take on a dangerous glint.
“Everyone. It’s the whole point of a new dress, silly.”
He hauls me closer by grabbing my ass, directly against his crotch and I feel the hardness poking my belly.
“Explain. And do it now.”
Uh oh. What?
He looks angry.
“You think I want men’s attention? Uh no.” I make a passable imitation of a buzzer sound. “Wrong. I just wanna feel good on a hot guy’s arm about looking half decent. Looking my best will make me feel less stressed out, though only marginally less, about meeting a whole bunch of new people.”