The salesclerk tossed a tiny sample bottle into the bag and slid it across the counter. Bailey grabbed it, which I took as a massive win.

“Next time, I’ll pack sunglasses and a hat for you,” I said, throwing an arm over her shoulders and kissing the top of her head as we headed for the door. “You can go incognito.”

“Oh my god, no.” She glanced up at me. “Next time we’re ordering online.”

“So you’re open to expanding your toy collection down the road?”

Bailey laughed. “Never change, Carter.”

“You wanna swing by the handcuffs on the way out, or…?”

“I’m good,” she said. “Maybe next time.”

Wait, what?

I turned to look at her. “Really?”

“I said maybe.”

Pushing the door open, I held it for her, and we headed back outside into the chilly fall air. The weather had taken a turn, reminding us that winter was imminent.

“Food time?” My truck beeped from afar as I hit the remote start, the engine roaring to life.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m starving.”

I guided her to the passenger-side door and backed her up against it. My hands found her waist and I leaned in, kissing her quickly. Had to keep it brief because I was already too worked up for my own good. Plus, she smelled delicious, like vanilla and Bailey. Good enough to eat. Literally.

Hmm. Maybe we could skip that meal.

We pulled apart and I studied her face. “What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged, lips quirking. “What about you?”

Opening that box and test driving the toy, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. She could take it home, and we’d see how that went. Fingers crossed.

“You,” I said. “Sitting on my face.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked over my shoulder, then back at me. “Carter.” She gave me a look. “We’re in public.”

“Technically, we’re in a parking lot. And I didn’t mean here. Just, you know, later.”

I opened the door and shut it behind her before walking around to the driver’s side.

“What’s the over/under on the timeline for opening that box?” I put the truck into reverse and backed out.

“I don’t know,” Bailey said evasively. “Depends on lots of things.”

I stole a glance at her. “I give it four days, max.”

My real bet was two, but I was being conservative.

“Aren’t you optimistic?”

“Always,” I said. “Gonna tell me when you do?”

Her expression shifted, a mixture of self-conscious and mischievous. “You want me to?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Ideally, I wanted a play-by-play, pictures, video. A highly detailed review. But I’d settle for knowing. My imagination could do the rest.

She grinned. “We’ll see.”

35. an excuse

CHAPTER 35

AN EXCUSE

Chase