Page 13 of Slapshot Bride

“Okay,” she says, after a beat. “Logistics.”

“Logistics?” My brows are raised, and my eyes are back to her.

“I have a wedding dress, one shoe, and approximately zero of the things a person needs to live.” She lifts a hand and ticks them off. “Toothbrush. Underwear. Clothes that are not a wedding dress, nor yours…”

I make a face. “Too bad. My clothes look great on you, if you ask me.”

“And Lord knows I appreciate the kindness. But thank you, kind Sir, I’d rather find something that doesn’t dwarf me.” She places a palm on her chest, mimicking a poorly done British accent. Then she continues with her list. “A phone charger. Some kind of moisturizer because my face is a few hours from looking crusty. A toothbrush… oh, wait. I said that already. Well that tells you how desperately I need one.”

“We can get you those things. And I can give you a new toothbrush right now. I always have new ones lying around.”

She blinks. “Great, but we? As in you and I?”

“Unless you’ve suddenly decided you don’t need them anymore. You’ll need a ride, and seeing as you’ve sanctioned me to be your driver for the time being, it’s only right, don’t you think?”

She looks down at the t-shirt like she has forgotten she's wearing it. “Right. Yes. Okay. Except.” She bites her lip. “I can't use a card.”

I shrug but she continues.

“Every card I have access to is on a joint account. Or attached to one of my father’s. Either way, the second I run one, Preston knows where I am.”

Oh, that little fucker.

I keep that thought to myself.

She lifts her chin. There is something a little defiant in the line of it. “I'm not asking you to pay for things. That’ll be terrible of me. I'm telling you why I can't, so we can figure out a different solution that doesn't put me in the position of being a kept woman by a man I have known for less than twenty-four hours.”

“Noted,” I say as calmly as I can.

“I have money,” she adds. “Actual money. I'm not a freeloader, and would hate to be one. I just can't touch it for a few days without leaving a trail.”

“Noted,” I repeat.

What I don’t say is that I couldn’t give less of a fuck about paying for whatever she needs. Clothes, food, a new phone, whatever. I’d hand her my card right now and tell her to go nuts. But I’m starting to understand that saying it like that would only make this worse.

This matters to her, so I need to get the wording right.

“I’m serious, Easton.” She makes a frustrated face.

“So am I.” I set my cup down. “I’ll cover whatever you need for now, and you can pay me back once you can access your money without leaving a trail. We’ll call it a loan. No interest, no deadline, no strings attached.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Reasonable. It's unsettling.”

Jesus. What kind of men has she been dealing with if basic human decency makes her suspicious?

“I will work on being more difficult.”

“See, I can work with that.”

I let the laugh out this time. It's small and surprised, and I don't know what to do with the way she looks when I do it, like she has caught something she did not mean to.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

I glance at it without thinking and immediately regret it. The screen is face up. The preview is right there, two lines of it, the name at the top.