"Oh, that is so sweet, but really it was nothing," I start to protest, but Brice cuts me off.
"That is generous of you, Sheila. Thank you."
Sheila walks back up to the front of the store and I glare at Brice.
"Don't fuss. She has a tip jar by the register. You can put the money in there, so she won't see it until after we’ve gone."
That I can live with. I try on the first dress and step out to show Brice. It's pink and casual.
"No, it doesn't go with your boots," he says.
This is the answer for the next three dresses until I try on the blue lace one, which happens to be the one I really like.
"That's the dress!"
"I agree."
I like that he has really put some thought into it and doesn't just pick a dress to get out of here fast. Most guys would have picked the first one.
I get a necklace to go with it and when Shelia refuses to let me pay, I slip a hundred dollar bill into the tip jar when she is distracted bagging up my stuff.
"Do you need anything else?" Brice asks once in the car.
"Nope. I'm good."
On the way home, I call my dad and tell him what happened, giving him the man's information. He promises to look into it because he hates guys like that as much as I do. I know he will do everything he can to shut him down. He’s done it before.
Once we pull into Brice's driveway, he puts the truck in park and unbuckles his seatbelt but makes no move to get out.
"That was really great what you did for Shelia. Thank you. I really mean that." he says and his tone is soft, like he didn't think I'd do something like that for a complete stranger and is shocked I did.
"Of course. Though I didn't just do it because she's a friend of yours, I'd do it for anyone. I can't stand guys like that. They make it harder for the rest of us doing legit business deals to be taken seriously."
When I look back over at Brice, I swear he is closer to me than he was just a moment ago. There’s a fire in his eyes and the way he's looking at me is the way I caught Colt looking at Sage a few times yesterday. Shifting in his seat, he leans over the center console and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear but doesn't remove his hand.
When I don't stop him, he leans in, ever so slowly giving me plenty of time to move away if I want, but I don't.
His lips barely brush mine when my phone rings. He pulls away, cussing.
Of course, my mom has impeccable timing and wonders why I'm still single.