“Yeah.” They reached the glass double doors of the mall’s main entrance, and Sarge held one open so Jasmine could go in ahead. “I kind of figured you wouldn’t be thrilled about that idea.”
“So you drove me here before telling me.”
“Hear me out.” A group of teenage guys were pointing at him, so he threw them a casual wave, but kept Jasmine walking. “I’m going to buy you the ugliest dress we can find.”
“Oh, well now I’m on board.” Her widening smile ruined the effect of her sarcasm, spreading across her face and making her glow. “Is there more to this plan or does it end with me making Hook’s worst-dressed list?”
Damn. Damn, he should have just taken her home. He could be kissing her mouth, her stomach, her knees. Now they were stuck in a public place and she couldn’t stop being amazing for even a little while. “There’s more.” Sarge noticed the group of teenagers had turned and begun following them, holding up their cell phone cameras to take pictures. “You get to buy me something ugly, too.”
Jasmine appeared thoughtful. “Which will take care of your guilt for ruining my dress, I don’t have to feel like I owe you money, and we get to out-ugly each other.”
“See how that works?” Feeling protective of Jasmine, even though it was only a group of kids following them, Sarge wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I’m not going to lie, a significant part of the plan involves watching you try on dresses. Ugly ones.”
“Long ones. Modest ones.”
“The plan said nothing about long or modest.”
She laughed into his shoulder, and his chest almost caved in. His imagination conjured an image of a dozen invisible arms reaching out, trying to snatch up the details of that moment. Jasmine’s warm breath passing through his sleeve, the way she lifted on her toes to press her mouth to him. Her golden scent. God, her scent. There had to be a way to take moments and freeze them forever, right? It didn’t seem fair they had to end, like an album track. And damn, he needed to bring his thoughts down a notch before he did something crazy. Like promising to write her a never-ending song. Or begging her to laugh into his shoulder again. Or both.
“So who’s going first?” Sarge managed, his voice gruff.
Her gaze lit on something up ahead. “You first. Definitely you.”
Almost afraid to look, Sarge spotted the mall kiosk boasting custom tie-dyed shirts. “Oh wow. It’s like they saw us coming.”
Jasmine tugged him toward the booth. “Funny how plans backfire.”
Twenty minutes later, Sarge was the reluctant owner of a hot-pink and baby-blue tie-dyed shirt that said “Band Geek” across the chest. Looking adorably pleased with herself, Jasmine still hadn’t noticed the group of people forming across the mall, watching them and snapping pictures. Wanting to keep it that way lest she worry about them ending up on the internet, Sarge kept her facing away from the building group, throwing them an occasional smile over her head, hoping they would lose interest.
Old News traveled with light security on the road, mostly for Lita’s safety, but today marked the first time Sarge had to worry about someone in his care—Jasmine—being affected by curious fans. Any other time, he wouldn’t hesitate to sign autographs or take pictures, but he was all too aware that this hiatus with Jasmine was set to expire. One of her parameters had been to keep their relationship a secret. Dozens of people seeing them together would break the spell for sure.
Dammit, he hadn’t been careful enough.
“All right, smart-ass. You’re up,” Sarge muttered, throwing the bag containing his new shirt over one shoulder. “Payback is going to be beautiful.”
“I thought ugly was the point.” Jasmine shook her head at Sarge, even as he took her hand. “You don’t even remember your own rules.”
Wanting to get her off the mall’s main floor, Sarge pulled her into the first women’s clothing store they passed. Which thankfully, turned out to be exactly what he’d had in mind. Designed for shoppers on a budget, the hemlines were brief, the material thin…and there was an overabundance of animal print. Last-minute clubbing outfits. “This makes my job pretty easy,” Sarge murmured, noting they were the only customers in the store. Thank God. The longer they could fly under the radar, the better.
“Put me in zebra print and die.”
Forcing a laugh, even though his throat was tightening with dread, Sarge’s gaze snagged on a red dress with no sleeves, the number 69 in giant yellow letters below the neckline. “Oh, I think we have a winner.”
Following his line of sight, Jasmine’s jaw fell. “No. No way. Don’t you dare.”