Thunderstruck (Ramsey Security #1)

"I don't need a promise," he says, taking my hand. "I'm focused on today, not what happens next."

I smile until his thumb caresses the top of my hand. The heat from his touch infects me, awakening parts of my body that were numb until now. Before I can tug away my hand, Troy kisses the scar.

"Be good for Minka. She's jealous of how much more you like me than her."

Shivering, I step back when Minka knocks. Troy sighs, sounding tired. His gaze though isn't a bit sleepy. He looks ready to pounce, and I can barely keep myself from running to my room.

Minka enters the apartment, looks us over, and frowns.

"See you in the morning," Troy says to us, but his gaze remains on me.

"So long, Troy," Minka mutters, nearly shoving him out of the door. Once he's gone, she smiles at me. "I have fun news."

Wary after a long day, I say nothing. Minka walks into the security room, and I follow because I don't know what else to do.

"You saw the chase today," she murmurs while checking over all the camera angles. "Locke probably figures you'll hide away out of fear, so I talked with Shelley. We thought it would be a good time to take you out shopping. She knows a boutique where you can find better fitting clothes."

"Is it safe?" I ask, nervous suddenly.

"We'll sneak you out. Saskia is coming too. Just a bunch of girls out shopping. Two of us will be heavily armed girls but whatever."

I want to say no. Today was too stressful, and I only want to curl up on the couch and watch comedy reruns. Yet Minka proves a difficult woman to tell no.

"Look at it this way," she says, leaning against the counter, "even if tonight is awful and you hate every minute you're shopping, it's only one evening out of your life. I bet in a year or two, you won't even remember going."

I refuse to answer, hoping Minka will take the hint. Of course, my tactic doesn't work.

"Did you fix your hair?" she asks, tugging gently at the ends. "Looks nice. It's good for you to try new things."

Turning around, Minka walks into the living room and picks up an empty water bottle Troy left.

"Back when I was an independent contractor, I had short hair. A sharp little bob made it easier to wear wigs. Now that I'm doing less undercover work, I let my hair grow out. I like changing things up."

My silence again does nothing to dampen Minka's excitement. She only smiles at me until I look away.

Shelley texts me ten minutes later to say she's happy I want to go shopping. I consider texting back to say I really don't want to go, I had a hard day, and I want to sulk the rest of the evening. Sensing Minka will get me to go anyway, I only text back a smiling face to my happy sister.

Until the time comes to sneak downstairs, I listen to Daniela Andrade singing Smells like Teen Spirit on repeat. I wonder what Troy would think about the song. What kind of music does he enjoy?

My mind wandering, I find myself curious about what a date with Troy might be like. Where does he take his dates? What does he talk about? Does he kiss on the first date? Does he expect sex? I bet many women are willing to enjoy his hard body after a single date. Yeah, I'm fairly certain the old Darla would have put out too, if given the chance. I wasn't easy though, and I expected a few solid weeks of dating before I shared my body. With Troy, I'd likely make an exception.

The old Darla is thinking about his bicep when the new Darla follows Minka down to the garage. She's already checked out the area, deemed it clear, and is speaking to Saskia on her phone. All I need to do is avoid complaining.

Saskia pulls a dark sedan into the garage and comes to a stop in front of us. Shelley pops up from the backseat and waves excitedly at me. I slide in next to her while Minka studies the quiet parking garage.

"We're like spies," Shelley says, hugging me tightly.

"Aren't you scared?"

"No," she says and then whispers, "Saskia is scary, but she's on our side, so I feel safe."

Nodding, I say nothing while Minka joins us in the car. She glances back at us.

"You two play hide and seek back there until we're a few blocks out."

Shelley and I slide down as the car pulls out of the garage. My sister grins at me. I smile back, but I'm already worrying about what happens when the car stops. How many people will be at the store? Will they judge me? I look like a mess in my giant sweats, but I can ignore this fact when I'm at the apartment or with Shelley. Suddenly, I'm very aware of what a loser I've become.

"Where are we going exactly?" I ask once we can sit up normally.

"My neighbor is a designer who owns a cute boutique. She said she'd adjust any clothes you liked. Give you long sleeves or make a short skirt longer. She's aware you have bigger bazongas than a normal customer."

"Bazongas?" I ask, laughing. "Mature."

"Hey, most of the women in my neighborhood are stick figures. In the long run, they might be healthier than us. For now, they look like they need a Big Mac and some fries."