Page 31 of Devil's Marker

“Look. You’re not from around here. I am. That’s why I was assigned the unspeakably pleasurable task of being your chauffeur and personal shopper. So trust me. I’m gonna do the job.” Through inflection she made certain that Win knew she was being sarcastic.

“I’ll ride along and see where this is goin’. But trust you? I don’t think so.”

The corners of her mouth twitched like the idea of being distrusted was the best thing that had happened to her all day.

She pulled into parking across the street from an old brick warehouse that had apparently been converted into a complex of shops. In fact, it seemed to be a shopping district. Urban reclamation.

Inside, he looked around and said, “Is this country hell?”

There were crafts combined with horrendous souvenir Texas memorabilia and knick-knacks as far as the eye could see. A laugh bubbled up before she realized it was coming or she never would have given him a verbal star for humor.

“No. Well, yes, but there’s more if you know where to look.”

“You sure? ‘Cause from here it looks like Cracker Barrel has taken over Waco during the night while citizens slept peacefully unaware.”

He could tell that she was deliberately trying to hide a smile. “Like I said. Trust me.”

They passed a soap shop, a Christmas craft store, a kitchen doodad store, a collectible signs store, a Tibetan scarf store, and a chocolates store before they climbed to the second level. Eventually, however, they came to a small shop with understated everything.

Levis.

Shirts.

Not fancy. Not silly. Not girly. Not cute.

Just good jeans and solid color cotton tee shirts, long and short sleeve, that looked like they’d already been worn and well-broken in.

Mentally, he gave her props. She’d brought him straight to his dream store. Tiny selection of just what he wanted.

After a brief conversation with the proprietor about size, he took some jeans into the curtained fitting room.

Before he disappeared, he turned to R.C., who was texting. “Arcy, you want to come in. Check the fit?” he teased.

Without looking up, she said, “You go on without me. I trust your judgment.”

“Okay. Come on in if you change your mind. Not much room, but we’ll work it out.”

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a smile, but it happened before she could stop it. She turned her body away to hide her reaction, but not before he saw.

It was the best shopping experience of his life. Jeans that fit like they were custom made for his body. Cotton shirts that didn’t do free advertising or make any kind of statement about anything. Colors that looked more like nature than like a carnival threw up on a loom. He liked the stuff so much that he bought more than he’d intended to. But he also had the luxury of a trunk to put stuff in. Might as well take advantage.

R.C.’s eyes flicked to the cash register as he handed over actual cash. Bikers, at least the ones she knew, generally preferred treasury script over plastic.

They walked away with him carrying three large white paper sacks full of some of the most comfortable clothes ever.

“You did good,” he said as they were descending the stairs. “You read my mind.”

“Your mind isn’t that complicated, Garrett.”

“You might be surprised. Hey, I’m hungry. You hungry? I think I saw tacos across the street. You got time for that. Right?” He read indecision in her eyes, that were a much lighter shade of green near the bright sunlight of the entrance. “Come on. It’ll be my treat.” When she still hesitated out on the sidewalk, he said, “Just half an hour. You gotta have lunch.”

She took in a big breath and raised her chin. “You sure you wouldn’t rather call Robin? She doesn’t live far from here.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Robin’s on her own for lunch today.”

After another couple of beats, she said, “Okay. But I’m not tellin’ any club secrets if that’s what you’re after.”

“I’d have to slap a hand over your mouth if you tried.”

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