Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

There were suits of all sorts—linen, tweed, velour. Dress shirts with white collars folded into perfect rectangles in clear plastic packaging. Rows of ties in a rainbow of colors. He would’ve looked good in any of it, but we were going to Jean and Roger’s, not some white collar corporate event.

We wandered over to the casual section. “How about I show up in this?” Navan asked, holding up a gray waffle-weave bathrobe. “Really make a good first impression.”

I stifled a laugh. “How about this instead?” I pulled a pair of jeans off a hanger. “Jeans and . . . this.” I grabbed a plain black t-shirt.

“I like it,” he said. “What about you?”

“You’ll look good in it. It’s classic.”

“No, I meant, what about you for clothes? What are you going to wear?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“Oh. We can head over to the ladies’ section. But first you should try those on to make sure they fit.”

Navan held the jeans up. “Eh, I’m pretty good at eyeballing things. These are a size too small. And the legs look too short.”

“Okay.” I slid those jeans back on the hanger and put it on the rack. I grabbed the next size up. “You should still try them on. The dressing room is right here.”

He went in with the jeans and the t-shirt. “I’ll wait right here,” I said, sitting down on a leather bench that was right outside the dressing room. A three-way mirror was in front of me, reflecting three of me back.

“Uh . . . I might need the next size up,” Navan called, stepping out of the dressing room. The jeans fit perfectly, but the shirt was way too small—his muscles strained against the fabric and the bottom of the shirt just barely grazed the waistband of the jeans.

I laughed and went back to where the shirts were, grabbing one two sizes up. “Here you go,” I said.

He came out of the dressing room again a few seconds later, arms outstretched. “How do I look now?”

I felt like whistling. Damn good was how he looked. “Perfect,” I replied.

We made our way over to the ladies’ section, where there were dresses of every style and color imaginable.

“How about this one?” Navan remarked, holding up a ridiculously gaudy yellow and white polka dot dress with a long, sweeping skirt and white bow in the back.

“That is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” I announced. I went over to a rack of maxi dresses, where I grabbed a floral print racerback one. “This one will do.”

“Okay, I agree that’s better.” He smiled, and I could tell he was genuinely enjoying himself. I wondered what the shopping experience was like in Vysanthe—if they even had shops.

“Should I come in the dressing room and help you try it on? A good boyfriend would do that, right?”

For a crazy split-second I wasn’t actually sure if he was joking, but then I looked at him, and he raised a dark brow, a spark of humor twinkling in his eyes.

“I think I can manage,” I replied, simultaneously trying not to laugh and not blush. I was sure getting a good dose of relaxed Navan during this little outing… I guessed there weren’t many occasions when he could flex his personality like this—be whoever the heck he wanted to be. Certainly not back in his homeland. And he was clearly taking full advantage of that with me… Not that I was complaining. I found upbeat Navan incredibly cute.

In the dressing room, I was glad to find that the dress I’d chosen fit, and it looked great on me, if I did say so myself. It highlighted the curve of my waist, and the pattern brought out the blue in my eyes. I ripped the tag off so I could pay for it without having to change first, took one last look at myself, and then backed out of the changing room.

As I reemerged, Navan was standing, waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw me, he froze, and I could have sworn his eyes lit up.

“Oh, that…” He cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. He uncrossed his arms and took a step back, giving me a long once over. “That… looks much better on you than my shirt,” he concluded, his eyes spanning the length of my legs and returning to my face, his lips curved in an admiring smile.

I grinned, accepting the compliment. “Thanks.”

He kept his eyes on me as I approached him, and it was all I could do to keep my cheeks from flaming. Damn. I’d been on my fair share of dates during high school, and I’d never felt this girly around any guy before.

On our way out of the store, we passed by another three-way mirror and Navan held out a hand, stopping us in front of it.

“Would you look at us,” he said, putting an arm around me and causing my breath to involuntarily hitch. “Not too bad on the eyes at all... You ready to go impress the pants off your parents?”

“Um . . . I hope they’re not that impressed that they lose their pants. I’d very much like to avoid that, actually, at all costs.”

He chuckled and kept his arm around me as we walked out of the store, and I doubted he realized the effect it had on me. My face felt thoroughly red by the time I hailed a taxi and directed it to Jean and Roger’s neighborhood.

Once we were sitting, I returned my thoughts to the task at hand. Until now, I hadn’t been feeling that nervous about this first task of the day. Navan was clearly in a calm mood, and I reminded myself that he could handle it, especially since we were not planning to stay for long, anyway. I’d told my parents we had plans with Navan’s brother who lived in the city. Still, my palms were sweating as we arrived at my adoptive parents’ street, and we approached our modest, three-bedroom house. It felt like everything had changed so much since I had last been here, my entire world spun out of control. It was going to be hard to act like nothing had happened.

I stopped at the porch and drew in a deep breath. I glanced at Navan. His expression was calm, almost contemplative, and I realized that if anyone had the right to be nervous about this, it was him. I grabbed a hold of that thought and tried to infuse some of that calmness into myself, right as Sally, our Labrador, started barking.

“Riley!” Jean must’ve been waiting right by the door, because it swung open and there was her thin face, breaking out into a smile, her crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of her warm brown eyes. But as they fell on Navan, I could see the tension brewing behind them. Her eyes widened as she took in his imposing form, the image she’d had in her head of who I might’ve run off with was evidently very different from the man who stood before her.

I had to hide my smile as Roger appeared behind her, his blue eyes bulging, too, and his red-bearded face assuming an almost identical expression to Jean’s. Roger was by no means short at almost six feet, but even he had to tilt his head slightly to look Navan in the eye.