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“Can I help you?”

They turned around. The girl who’d asked was tall as Xhex, but the comp between the two females ended right there. Unlike the female of John’s fantasies, this one spiked way high on the feminine scale and suffered from hair-related Tourette’s, a condition that manifested itself in incessant head jerks and an evidently irresistible urge to fondle her brunette frizz bomb. But she had skills. Somehow, she managed to handle all that hair play without tipping over into a T-shirt display.

Frankly, it was kind of impressive. Although not necessarily in a good way.

Now Xhex would never—

Fuck. Why the hell was Xhex always the standard?

As Qhuinn smiled at the girl, plans of the on-all-fours variety flared in his eyes. “Perfect timing. We totally need help. My buddy here needs a vibe injection. Can you hook him?”

Oh. God. No.

When the girl glanced over at John, her hot stare made him feel like she’d grabbed him between the legs and sized up his cock with a squeeze.

He took cover behind a rack of brand-new, old-looking button-downs.

“I’m the manager,” she said, her drawl all about the bump and grind. “So you’re in good hands. All of you.”

“Niiiice.” Qhuinn’s mismatched eyes traced down the girl’s smooth legs. “Why don’t you get to work on him? I’ll watch.”

Blay stepped up beside John. “Whatever you pick out, I check first, and I’ll bring it to him in the dressing room.”

John sagged with relief and signed a quick thank-you to Blay for coming to the rescue yet again. The boy’s middle name was buffer. For real.

Unfortunately, the manager just smiled even more widely. “Two for one sounds good to me. Check it, I didn’t know we were having a sale on man candy tonight.”

Okay, this was going to be horrible.

An hour later, though, John was feeling better. Turned out Stephanie, the manager, had a good eye, and once she got into the clothes she chilled out on the come-ons. John got jacked into some sweet ragged jeans, a bunch of those deconstructed button-downs, and a couple of tight muscle shirts, which even he had to admit showed off his guns and his pecs like they were worth seeing. A couple of necklaces were pushed on him, and so was a black hoodie.

When it was done, John went up to the register with the shit draped over his arm. As he put the clothes down, he glanced at a bunch of bracelets in a basket. Within the tangle of leather and shells, there was a flash of lavender, and he weeded through the pile to get to it. Pulling out a woven bracelet with beads the color of Cormia’s rose on it, he smiled and surreptitiously put the thing underneath one of the muscle shirts.

Stephanie rang him up.

The total was over six hundred bucks. Six. Hundred. Dollars.

John wigged. He only had about four—

“I’ve got it,” Blay said, handing over a black card and glancing at him. “You can pay me the rest later.”

Stephanie’s eyes bugged at the sight of the plastic, then narrowed on Blay as if she were changing the price tag on him. “I’ve never seen a black AmEx before.”

“It’s no big.” Blay started poking through a bunch of necklaces.

John squeezed his friend’s arm then knocked on the counter to get Stephanie’s attention. He spread his money out, but Blay shook his head and started signing.

Pay me the rest later, okay? I know you’re good for it, and let’s face it, do you really want to come back here and pick up the shit you can’t cover? I don’t.

John frowned, finding it hard to argue with that logic. But I’m giving the rest to you, he signed after he handed his four over.

When you have it, Blay returned. Just whenever you have it.

Stephanie whipped the card through the machine, punched in the amount, and waited with her fingertips on the slip. Seconds later there was a chattering sound, and then she ripped the paper off and handed it over to Blay with a blue Bic pen.

“So . . . we’re closing now.”

“Are you.” Qhuinn leaned a hip against the counter. “And exactly what does that mean?”

“It’s just going to be me here. I’m a great boss. I’m letting