“I like your . . . wardrobe.” All right, then. He used the word “wardrobe” now. With a straight face, too, apparently. “In the beginning, I thought it was . . .”

“Ridiculous?”

“Impractical,” he corrected her firmly. “But I’ve changed my mind.”

“You just like my clothes now because you get to take them off.”

“That doesn’t hurt. But mainly, they’re you. That’s the real reason.” He watched the salesgirl approach with an armload of jeans and just barely stopped himself from barking at her to go away. “I like the things that make you Piper. Don’t go changing them now.”

“I’m not changing anything, Brendan,” she said, and laughed, pulling him into the dressing-room area. “But I can only get away with dresses for so long. It’s going to be fall soon, in the Pacific Northwest.”

The salesgirl breezed in behind them and ushered Piper away, putting her in the closest dressing room with a half-dozen pairs of jeans of various colors and styles. Then she pointed at a tiny, feminine chair, wordlessly implying that Brendan should sit—and he did, awkwardly, feeling a lot like Gulliver. “Is this what it’s like when you go shopping in LA?” he asked Piper through the curtain.

“Mmmm. Not exactly.” She peeked out at him and winked. “I typically don’t have a six-foot-four sea captain along for the ride.”

He made an amused sound. “Does that make it better or worse?”

“Better. Way better.” She pushed back the curtain and walked out in a pair of light-blue painted-on jeans and a black see-through bra. “Ooh, not a fan.” She turned and looked at her butt in the full-length mirror. “Thoughts?”

Brendan dragged his jaw up off the fucking floor. “I’m sorry. How are you not a fan?”

She made a face. “The stitching is weird.”

“The . . . what?” He leaned in for a closer look and immediately got distracted by the ass. “Who gives a shit?”

The salesgirl walked in and tilted her head. “Oh yeah. No. Pass on those.”

Piper nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Are you two playing a joke on me? They’re perfect.”

Both women laughed. Out went the salesgirl. Piper retreated to the changing room. And Brendan was left wondering if he’d taken crazy pills. “Yeah, safe to say this is definitely different than shopping with my friends back in LA. I’m pretty sure half the time they tell me something looks great even when it doesn’t. There’s always a sense of competition. Trying to get the edge.” A zipper went up and he watched her feet turn right, left, right under the curtain, smiling at the sparkly polish on her toes. It was so Piper. “I think maybe shopping hasn’t been fun for a while and I didn’t even realize it. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the clothes. But when I think of going dress hunting with Kirby now, I can’t remember feeling anything. I spent all of that time trying to give myself that first euphoric rush. But . . . I was more excited to get a deal on a fishing net at the harbor supply shop than I was buying my last Chanel bag.”

She gasped.

Alarm snapped Brendan’s spine straight. “What?”

“I think Daniel’s lesson worked.” She pushed aside the curtain, revealing her shocked expression. “I think I might appreciate money now, Brendan.”

If he wasn’t supposed to find her utterly fucking adorable, he was failing miserably.

“That’s great, Piper,” he said gruffly, ordering himself not to smile.

“Yeah.” She pointed down at a pair of dark jeans that molded indecently to her mouthwatering hips. “These are a no, right?”

“They’re a yes.”

She shook her head and closed the curtain again. “And they’re a hundred dollars. I looked at the price tag!” Then she mumbled, “I think that’s a lot?”

His head tipped back. “I make more than that on one crab, Piper.”

“What? No. How many crabs do you catch?”

“In a season? If I hit the quota? Eighty thousand pounds.”

When she opened the curtain again, she had the calculator pulled up on her phone. With her mouth in an O, she slowly turned the screen to show him all the zeroes. “Brendan, this is like, millions of dollars.”

He just looked at her.

“Oh no,” she said after a beat, shaking her head. “This is bad.”

Brendan frowned. “How is this bad?”

“I just learned the value of money. Now I find out I have a rich boyfriend?” She sighed sadly, closed the curtain. “We have to break up, Brendan. For my own good.”

“What?” Panic gave him immediate, searing heartburn. No. No, this wasn’t happening. He’d heard her wrong. But if he hadn’t misheard, they weren’t leaving this fucking dressing room until she changed her mind. He lunged to his feet and ripped the curtain open, only to find Piper laughing into her cupped palm, her sides shaking. Relief washed through him, as if an overhead sprinkler system had been engaged. “That wasn’t funny,” he said raggedly.

“It was.” She giggled. “You know it was.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

She pressed her lips together to get rid of the smile, but her eyes were still sparkling with laughter. But he couldn’t be mad at her, especially when she crossed her wrists behind his neck, pressed her soft body up against his hard one, and coaxed his mouth into a winding kiss. “I’m sorry.” She licked gently at his tongue. “I didn’t think you’d buy it so easily.”

He grunted, annoyed at himself for enjoying the way Piper was trying to get back in his good graces. Her fingers twisted the ends of his hair, her eyes were contrite. All of it was oddly soothing. Christ, being in love was doing a number on him. He was a goner.

“Will you forgive me if I let you pick out my jeans?” she murmured against his lips.

Brendan smoothed his palms back and forth along her waist. “I’m not mad. I can’t be. Not at you.”

She dropped her hands away from his neck and handed him the next pair of jeans in the stack. As he watched, she unzipped the ones she was wearing and peeled them down her legs. Good God almighty, Piper was bent over in front of the mirror, her ass nearly brushing the glass—and looking down from above, he could see everything. The mint-green strip of fabric tucked up between her supple cheeks, the suggestion of a tan line peeking out.

By the time she straightened, her face was flushed, and Brendan’s cock was straining against his zipper. “Put them on for me?”

Christ. It didn’t matter that the salesgirl could come in at any minute. Arrested as he was by those big, blue bedroom eyes, nothing mattered but her. Hell, maybe that would always be the case. Brendan let out a shuddering breath and went down on his knees. He started to open the waistband so she could step into them, but the little triangle of her panties absorbed his attention when he remembered she’d gotten waxed that morning.

Truthfully, he’d never given a thought to women’s . . . landscaping before. But ever since the first time he’d eaten Piper’s pussy, he’d craved hers. The way it looked, felt, tasted, the smooth succulence of her.