“Nope.” I shook my head, crossing my legs. “I changed my mind. I can’t go in there.”

Could I?

Chase lifted a shoulder, his expression neutral. “Okay. I won’t make you. We can leave if you want.”

Ambivalence simmered within me. In theory, I wanted to leave. But reality was a different story and he knew it. He was eerily good at reading me. But since he literally said what he was thinking all the time, I guess that evened out.

I bit my bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll be right with you.” He rubbed my thigh and left his warm hand there. “In and out. Easy.”

“But we have to pay before we can go home.” I looked at him, cringing. “Like, I have to stand there and face another person while purchasing…that.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You think a sex shop cashier is going to judge you for buying a little vibrator? Trust me, James. Those people have seen some shit.”

I glanced at the store through the windshield, back to him, then at the store again.

Part of me was curious. Most of me was intimidated.

It was just a store. A simple brick and glass structure, innocuous enough from the outside. But as for what it contained…

Chase squinted, leaning over the steering wheel. “Look,” he nodded at the window, “Carl’s working the register today. He’s super nice.”

“You know the cashiers by name?”

“It was a joke,” he said, laughing. “How much of a perv do you think I am?”

I reached over and poked his arm. “I plead the fifth.”

“If you join me, you have some input.” He winked. “But I can go in without you if you want. We could make it a surprise like I said before.”

“That sounds even scarier.” I drew in a breath and held it for a beat before exhaling. To go, or not to go? The million-dollar question.

Chase held my gaze. “James.” He lowered his voice, intentionally doing that thing that somehow massaged my brain—not to mention other parts of my body—and made it impossible to say no to.

“Yeah?”

“Come on.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, but I was a little thankful for the prodding.

What was the worst that could happen? Other than dying of embarrassment.

* * *

CHASE

I’d done my homework for this outing, and I’d intentionally chosen a nicer, chick-friendly store per the reviews and pictures online. The inside of this one looked more like a clothing boutique than a sex shop, finished with wood shelving and decked out in black and pink decor.

It was the opposite of the seedy, fluorescent-lit type of store one would picture when thinking “sex shop,” which made it perfect. Hopefully.