At the Stroke of Midnight (Naughty Princess Club 1)

One of the children who works at the store stands behind the counter with an annoyed look on her face while I stand here, refusing to move forward and put everything down, which just makes everything worse.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m young enough to get a shirt that says This tequila tastes like I’m not going to work tomorrow. It’s rude to be ageist,” I tell her in a haughty voice, realizing if Ariel were here right now, she’d smack me in the arm because the stick up my ass that I thought I permanently removed seems to have found its way back into me, momentarily.

PJ comes over to me and grabs all of the clothes out of my arms, turning and setting them down on the counter and telling the judgy little girl to start ringing everything up before he turns back to face me.

“PJ, I can’t . . .” I whisper with a shake of my head, trailing off as I take a few deep breaths to stop myself from crying in the middle of this stupid store.

“Hey, there’s no crying in clothes shopping,” PJ tells me with a smile. “If anyone is crying, it should be me. Shopping for women’s clothing is like the seventh circle of hell.”

I try to give him a smile, but now my mouth isn’t working either. Everything is failing me today.

He cups my cheek in one of his palms, and it’s nice to know my libido still works when she perks up and waves just from feeling his hand on me.

“This was my idea. The first step toward being successful in this business you’re starting is feeling comfortable in the clothes you wear. They should be your choices to express your personality, not things your friends pick out for you,” he tells me softly. “And since it was my idea, it’s my treat.”

As he says this, he drops his hand from my cheek, pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, and hands his credit card over to the girl ringing up the last item on the counter.

“You’re not paying for my new clothes. That’s . . . no. Not happening. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me or anyone giving me a handout,” I inform him angrily, crossing my arms in front of me with a huff.

“Cin, what I feel for you has absolutely nothing to do with sympathy, believe me,” he tells me in a low voice that only the two of us can hear, since he’s moved right back into my personal space, making my traitorous skin break out in goosebumps with the way he’s looking at me. “And I’m not paying for your new clothes; consider it a loan. You can pay me back when this business of yours is kicking ass. Or, you can pay me back in other ways.”

My crossed arms press against his chest when his hands grab my hips again and he pulls me close.

“Oh yeah? And what other ways would that be?” I ask with a raise of one eyebrow, realizing my voice sounds awful breathy right now.

Holy shit, I just flirted with him, and I didn’t even need Ariel’s assistance.

“I could make you a list,” he says, dropping his head and sliding his cheek against mine until his lips are by my ear. “Starting with another one of those sexy lap dan—”

“Eew, are you guys gonna make out in public? That’s so gross.”

I didn’t even realize I’d closed my eyes and started turning my lips toward his until we both fly apart guiltily when Anastasia interrupts us. I don’t have time for mortification or an explanation that I wouldn’t be able to give even if I tried, since Anastasia flies right onto another topic.

“So, Ma, Mom, Mommy, my favorite mother in the whole wide world,” she starts, batting her eyelashes and folding her hands under her chin. “There’s this Supernatural shirt at Hot Topic I HAVE to have. It’s got Castiel on it. Can I get it?”

“Casty-who?” I ask in confusion.

“Oh my God, Mom,” Anastasia replies with a roll of her eyes. “Can I please get the shirt? It’s only twenty-nine dollars. I will refrain from eating the souls of my enemies for at least a month if I have this shirt. Think of the souls of my enemies, Mom.”

Our water bill is twenty-nine dollars this month. It’s bad enough I let PJ get me all hot and bothered and convince me he would pay for everything I picked out today. Now I have to embarrass myself further by telling my daughter we can’t afford it right in front of him. And I have to tell her no, right when we’ve hit a good spot in our relationship, which will make her hate me, stomp her foot, cause a scene, and tell me it’s not fair and I’m ruining her life.