Page 35 of Always Say Yes to a Dragon

“Should I have brought the limo?”

“No. Nope. Let’s go.” She seemed eager to leave, so I handed her inside, savoring the extra few seconds of contact. Already, I was hard, but I wouldn’t ravish her in the back seat like a horny teenager while Bryan drove us around. I’d let her set the pace for sex.

Elle glanced at the driver, then back at me before settling gingerly into the seat. During the short drive to the nearest decent shoppingdistrict, she relaxed, chatting with me about my day. She seemed to share Diego’s concerns about the artistic merits of the painting I’d brought into City Hall this morning, and she suggested a suitable replacement.

Once we arrived at the store, she exited the town car, plucking at her top. “You said we were going shopping.”

“My sister, Tika, loves this boutique.” The few times I’d allowed Tika to visit me, she’d spent considerable time here, so not only did I know they’d have high-quality goods, but I also knew they’d have somewhere comfortable for me to sit while Elle shopped.

She wore a V-neck top and the same jeans she’d worn to coffee. I couldn’t wait to buy her something to replace her cheap, ill-fitting clothing.

She peered through the window, evaluating the goods. I tensed, waiting for her judgment.

Elle twisted her fingers together, her eyes bouncing from mannequin to mannequin before resting on me. “I’m not sure…”

My gut tightened. “There are other shops along this street, if you don’t like this one.”

Something like understanding lit her eyes from within, her hands relaxing by her side. “No, this place looks good.” She shot me a wink, then swept inside, once more in command.

She meandered over to the purses, glancing at me over her shoulder. I’d been shopping with Tika several times. I knew the drill: sit somewhere unobtrusive and offer opinions only when asked.

Elle ran her fingers over a hand-stitched leather purse. She checked the tag, shot me a look, then touched the back of her neck and smoothed her clothes down. Then she moved on to the next purse.

Tikalasslovedpurses. If Elle and Tika had a common interest, things would go much smoother when I introduced them.

One of the shop assistants, a short white woman, approached her and said something that made her tense up. Elle responded in a low voice. I couldn’t hear them, but I didn’t like Elle’s defensiveness, or the assistant’s insolent gestures.

When I walked over, the assistant’s mouth shut with an almost audible snap.

“Is there a problem?” I’d never seen employees treat my sister like this.

The assistant, whose name tag read Marissa, glanced between Elle and me.

I stepped closer to Elle.

Marissa shook her head. “No problem. Please let me know if you need anything specific.” Before either of us could answer, she flounced off.

Elle’s eyes bounced from Marissa’s retreating back, the clothes on the rack, and me. “ShouldI get anything specific?”

My neck grew warm. “A nice dress or three? I have an event tomorrow night. I know it’s not one of your scheduled days, but I have to go, and I hate going to these things alone.”

“Tomorrow?” She chewed her lip.

“Yes.” My wingtips twitched as I prepared to make my pitch. How to present the apartment in the most appealing light? Its size? Its location?

“Yeah, I can go to your thing.”

My brain froze. She hadn’t requested anything in exchange. Did she think I couldn’t provide for her? Was she rethinking our courtship? Telling someone you’d only pay a dollar for an hour of their time was a grave insult in the dragon world. To demandnocompensation was unthinkable.

While I was still reeling from Elle’s easy agreement, she found the salesperson and started giving directions.

I’d only barely recovered some semblance of my equilibrium when Marissa returned with an armload of dresses and I took a comfortable seat outside of Elle’s dressing room, my eyes fixed on the back of her head. I wished I could see through her skull and understand what she was thinking.

Instead, she looked back at me with a flirtatious grin that both inflamed and confused me before entering the dressing room.

The first dress she modeled was adequate. Simple, black, with detailed stitching around the neckline and waist, but otherwise boring. She twirled, smoothed her hand over the fabric, twisted in the mirror to see the back. She liked this dress, but I couldn’t figure out why my fiery future mate wanted something so dull.

“What do you think?” she asked.

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