I'd shown up to work fifteen minutes early to find Dex outside—smoking. Gag. He'd given me that long, leisurely look that I didn't quite understand and tipped his head back, blowing a thick cloud of smoke from his lips in the opposite direction of where I stood. "We're openin' late," was exactly what he'd said before dropping the bomb on me.

Like I was going to complain. "Okay."

Dex had pushed off from the wall, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot. "Is your trunk big enough for a Costco run?"

In my head, there were tires squealing in protest to his comment. He wanted me to go with him? "Umm...I think so."

He smirked right before leaning down to pick up the crumpled butt. "All right. Let's go."

Crap.

I kept repeating crap over and over to myself as we walked toward the lot. I'd worked out most of the tension I felt toward Dex over the course of the last few weeks, and especially after seeing how nice and understanding he could be... well, I didn't feel that same resentment. That didn't mean that I was mentally prepared to hang out with him.

Or you know, go buy stuff together.

Twenty minutes later, Dex was pushing around a massive cart and heading toward the food section.

It should be said that the couple of times I'd been to the megastore, I'd seen plenty of men. Usually, they were always husbands or boyfriends, ranging from twenties to sixties or seventies. Some were good-looking, others were not. Some had tattoos, most didn't.

But I had never seen a man like Dex pushing around a cart. With his full-sleeved tattoos, peeping red ink on his neck, and Levi's that had broken in perfectly around his thighs—and butt, too—he was a sight. Then again, maybe I hadn't pictured men like Dex at all. Ever. They were like abominable snowmen.

Yet there he was with his little scrap of paper that he called a list, hunched over the lip of the cart, tossing in enough paper towels to last three months, and massive packages of toilet paper.

The first and only thing he said in the time between us parking and winding through the aisles was, “Grab whatever you want.”

“Thanks,” had been the response I gave him.

Then, nothing.

"You pissed off again?" Dex finally asked after we'd arranged the paper products to make room for the other stuff he planned on buying later on.

We hadn't really spoken much on the drive—he took the keys from me while we were crossing the street to the lot—and I hadn't made much of an effort since we'd walked into the store.

I looked over at him, taking in the dark green t-shirt that made his eyes look nearly black, and shook my head. "No. Why?"

Those normally brilliant blue eyes made a lazy trail from my face down, reminding me for some reason of the fact that he'd tucked his fingers into my back pocket at Mayhem the night before. "You're bein' all quiet, babe. It's weird."

Uhh... What? "I don't really talk a lot."

His eyes narrowed just a little bit. "You talk to everybody else."

I don't think it was my imagination that his tone had dipped a little lower than it usually did.

Thinking about it for a second, I guess I did. At Pins, I was usually always talking to a client or Slim or Blake. It was more often than not that I'd be speaking to someone. Yet the one person that I didn't really ever talk to was Dex. Not that that was a surprise either. More than half the time I'd known him, I hadn't held him in the highest regard. The other half of the time, I’d mostly spent trying to stay out of his hair.

"Oh," I told him, giving him a droopy smile.

Dex blinked slowly, his gaze hard and unyielding.

Oh lord. It made my hands feel funny. I wheezed out an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch at my head. "Thanks for putting me in bed that other night, by the way."

He didn't say anything, he just kept looking at me.

Well. I turned around to face the opposite shelves, feeling incredibly awkward that he didn't reply with at least a friggin' grunt. "You're welcome, Iris," I murmured under my breath, looking at the rows of granola bars on the shelves.

"What'd you say?"

Crap.

I tried to play it off by coughing. "Nothing."

The soft sound of his boots on the floor were my warning that he was approaching. "What'd you say?" he asked again, stopping just to my left. I could feel the heat of his chest on my arm.

"Nothing." God, I was a coward.

He took another step toward me, his abs brushing against my elbow. "Ritz, buck up. What'd you say?"

Oh boy. I swallowed hard and tilted my head up to look at him.

Dex was looking at me with that impenetrable gaze. "Didn't I already tell you to say whatever the f**k you want? I know you said somethin’, so repeat it."

I really was a coward sometimes. Why wouldn't I just repeat what I'd said? Oh, right. I didn't want to get fired. "I said you're welcome."

"Why didn't you just say that then? You still think I'm gonna get pissed or somethin'?" he asked carefully, his voice low.

Buck up, he'd said. I eyed him carefully, taking in the dark stubble on his jaw. "I don't want to make you mad."

"Why?"

"Why?" I repeated.

"Yeah, why? I don't give a f**k about pissin' other people off."

Like I didn't already know that. I hummed in my throat for a second before reminding myself there was nothing about Dex Locke to be worried about. To be nervous around. He was just a man. A man with a temper. A man with a temper that asked for my honesty. "You're my boss. I don't want to get fired."

I felt the nudge on my ribs and looked down to see that he'd elbowed me gently. His eyes were narrowed. "Why would I fire you?"

The scoff in my throat just kind of came out. "Do you remember telling your friend on the phone that you didn't need a f**king idiot working for you? Or do you remember telling me that if I couldn't handle the job, I wasn't needed?" There was probably just a little too much edge to my voice.

"Ritz," he groaned. Groaned! Like he was embarrassed or something when the words had come directly out of his mouth.

I tightened up my shoulders and flattened my mouth to give him an incredulous look. It didn't really work because he just managed to look at my mouth curiously. "Well. It came out of your mouth, didn’t it?"

The question had barely left my mouth before I physically flinched at the aggression in my voice. I’d told myself over and over again to stop, to move over, and I would. There were millions of things that were unforgivable and being a grumpy shit wasn’t one of them. Even if I wanted to believe it was. I had to pry half the words out of my mouth to feed them to him. “I’m sorry. I forgive you. I’ll figure out how to drop it sooner than later.”

Dex scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed, frowning just slightly down at me. "I wouldn’t have said that shit if I hadn’t been pissed off before," he huffed. “If you’re hopin’ to make me beg you to forget about it, you’re gonna be holdin’ your breath a while, baby.”

Was it mean of me to snort? Yes. But I did it anyway without even thinking about it. Him? Beg? I’d be sending parkas to hell the day that happened.