Isit wrong of me to be so excited? I hurry through my shower, my tummy tingling. I’ve never been taken shopping in my life. Hell, I’ve never had brand-new clothes before. All our clothes came from Goodwill. Werewolves who live in packs don’t think a ton about their clothes. I dry off fast and pull my old things on, hoping I’ll be in time to help Beau in the kitchen. He’s halfway done, but I make the toast and pour the coffee. We lay everything out at the table, and he takes his seat with a contented sigh.
“Isn’t this the life?” he says, his blue eyes catching the morning light as he gazes out at the sparkling river.
I wish that every day could start like this; me and Beau sitting beside Bertha, eating our breakfast, full of simple appreciation for the nature around us.
Just for this moment, I like to believe there’s magic in the air, in the water. This little supermarket parking lot feels like paradise. I’m no longer an unwanted halfling, but the mate of the river god.
I’m still wondering how we’re going to go shopping, when a throaty roar starts up from the far side of Bertha and Beau tears around the corner on his stylish black motorcycle. A café racer, he calls it.
“We’re going on your bike?” I say stupidly.
“Sure are.” He flashes that sexy grin of his and hands me a helmet.
I fumble it on, and he helps me, fastening the chinstrap snugly under my chin. “Sit close,” he tells me. “Hold tight to my waist. And don’t be scared. A werewolf’s reflexes are faster than lightning.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
I think I’m prepared for the speed, but it still startles me as he weaves in and out of the traffic. I wrap my arms around his muscular waist, and grip with my thighs as the wind blasts past us. Every time we stop at a traffic light, he checks in, squeezes my hand reassuringly, and I stop feeling scared. I know he’d never let me come to any harm.
When he pullsinto a shopping mall, I gawp at it like the little hick I am. I’ve only seen these in movies before.
Beau takes my hand, leads me along while I stumble, overwhelmed by all the new sights. My head swivels this way and that. So much choice; so many fashion stores full of clothes so much prettier than anything I’ve owned before.
He looks around a little dazedly, rubbing at his hair. Guess he’s not used to female fashions, either.
“Let’s start here.” He points to a store. It looks real fancy.
“I don’t know—” I start to say.
He picks out a real pretty outfit in the window. “Think that’d look perfect on you.”
When I protest, he drags me inside.
He takes charge, picking out outfits, asking the shop assistants for advice. They fawn over him, batting their eyelashes. Every woman has the hots for him. Jealousy surges in me, and I feel embarrassed being in the store with all these nice things, all the other girls dressed appropriately, when what I’m wearing is basically one step up from rags. To make things worse, my wolf keeps growling possessively. Now she’s woken up, I can’t get her to go back to sleep.
Beau leads me to the dressing room, and gets an assistant to lay out all the clothes for me.
“Now, go in there and try everything on,” he tells me.
A thrill goes through me as I stumble in and pull the curtains shut. I kind of like it when he’s bossy like this. Like it more than I should.
I pull on one outfit after another, tear back the curtain and show him.
Beau likes the things that cling tight to my curves, emphasize my rounded hips and big boobs. I’m usually real self-conscious about them, but I feel myself blossoming through his compliments. Try to see myself as the sexy woman he insists I am.
By the time we’re done, I have three new pairs of jeans, two dresses, and a bunch of shirts and lingerie. The assistants pack them so prettily in tissue paper with little bows and stickers, before handing them over in expensive bags. Beau insists on carrying everything, and all I can do is wander along, holding his hand, feeling like a princess in a movie. He insists I get a bunch of nice toiletries, too, and a hairdryer and a new backpack.
When we’re finally done, he looks at his watch.
“Just time to have lunch before I need to get you to work,” he says. “What do you want to eat?”
We go to a food court, and I’m like a kid in a candy store. Burgers, tacos, pizza. All these things I’ve read about in books or seen in movies. All these things for other people, not a feral girl from a savage pack. My stomach is rumbling, but I can’t decide.
“You’re overwhelmed, aren’t you, honey?” Beau says, his eyes tender. In the end, he winds up ordering burgers, quesadillas, hotdogs and strawberry shakes for us both. It’s too much food, but I savor every delicious mouthful.
“Thank you.That was the best day ever,” I say, as he fits all my things into the pannier on his bike and we climb back on.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he says, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “It was worth it to see you looking so happy.”