he says, slipping the other boot on and lacing them up before walking around. Unfortunately, Wyatt’s right. They pinch my feet a little when I walk. “I need a bigger size,” I grumble as I sit back down on the bench, bending over to untie the boots.
Wyatt looks up. He opens his mouth to tell the worker to get me the next size, but instead, he’s on him in a flash. He pushes him against the rack of shoes and gets in his face. The display shakes, and some of the shoes tumble over. Once again, his hat is hiding most of his features from me, but the hard line of his jaw is unmistakable. “You looking at her rack?”
“N-no,” the guy squeaks out, clearly scared out of his mind.
My stomach drops. “Wyatt,” I whisper-yell as people pass by. They hurry down the aisle, but Wyatt doesn’t give a fuck. He’s not going to apologize like Stone did.
The brim of Wyatt’s hat hits the guy in the forehead. “Just because I call her Tits doesn’t mean you get free looks, you understand me.”
The guy swallows. “Yes, of course.”
Wyatt steps back and shoves him toward a door that leads to the back. “Now get her a size eight in those shoes.”
The guy hurries away, and I glare at Wyatt. “What was that about?” Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. “You can’t just treat people that way.”
“I can and I will,” Wyatt says, stepping up to me. “Those tits are off limits to others, and the way he was salivating over them...” A disgusted tremor rolls through him. He balls his fists at his sides and moves closer. He bends over, whispering right into my ear, making shivers run down my arms. He hovers there, and I close my eyes because I’m sure he notices the effect he has on me. “Just FYI, you can tell by the way he didn’t fight back that he’d be a terrible lay. Remember that. Boys with bite will give you everything you need and everything you think you didn’t but do. I’m sure Lucas is close to showing you, and he’s a sleeper. Trust me.”
By the time he steps away, my knees are shaking. I already know Lucas is a sleeper. That he’s exactly what I want. I haven’t been able to forget what happened in class even though there are more pressing concerns happening around me. However, my blood boils when Wyatt is near too. He acts like an ass and then licks my wounds afterward until I just want to spread my legs to see what he can do down there when he’s like this everywhere else. I don’t doubt he’s everything and more in the bedroom.
I’ve read about guys like him. I just thought they were all fictional.
I go to stand, but he bites down on my earlobe. A spark of momentary pain hits. He sucks it away until I have to sit down again, my knees too weak to hold me upright. I nearly miss the bench, and Wyatt chuckles as he makes sure I land on the solid steel.
Thankfully, a new worker comes out of the back with my size eights. Wyatt smirks as he takes the box from him and helps me slip them on. These are much better. I end up grabbing that pair and another of a different kind while Wyatt throws two bags of hiking socks in the cart along with some athletic socks. We stop at the sneakers next, and I bite my lip over all the different colors and styles. I always just wore what my father brought me home from the second-hand store. I never got to pick out anything myself, so standing here is like being a kid in a candy store. Speaking of, I’ve never been the kid in the candy store either, but I can imagine it so that’s all that matters.
I’m deciding between two pairs when Wyatt puts them both in the cart. I start to argue with him, but he just walks away, and I have to run to catch up with his long strides. We head toward the clothing section next. At least this I can help with. I know my sizes in clothes based on my father’s shopping experience. I remember the growth spurt I went through in middle school. He had to buy me new hand-me-downs every three months and wasn’t happy.
Wyatt shows me some women’s hiking pants, and I smile. I’ve never had pants specifically