Soul Drifter (Divinely Touched Book 1) by Dyan Brown

Author:Dyan Brown [Brown, Dyan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dyan Brown
Published: 2019-09-22T05:00:00+00:00

15

Grayson signs the receipt and leads me back to the truck. Going over to my side of the vehicle, he reaches into the bed of the truck, pulling the black bag out that April had given to him. “Here, you’ll be more comfortable if you change in the restaurant.”

“Okay…” I take the plastic bag without hesitation, wondering what April picked out for me to wear. “Whatever you wish.”

His eyebrow lifts. “Whatever I wish?” The smile on his lips widens.

Pretty much, my naughty mind agrees, but outwardly, I just roll my eyes.

Grayson chuckles low in his throat, reaching out for my hand and pulling my body close to his. The rumble of his laugh fades as he presses his mouth to mine, softly at first, but growing more urgent as the kiss warms between us.

Just as my body leans into his, he ends the kiss more softly than how it began. He touches his forehead to mine, his hand still hot on my waist through my silk shirt. Even though he ended the kiss, he groans slightly from the disconnect. “Go,” he whispers. “Get changed. We need to go, or we’ll be late for the show.”

A small whine escapes me as he sweetly kisses the tip of my nose. I turn to walk back up the curb and get a tiny sting on the apple of my right butt cheek. I yelp and hear a muffled laugh behind me.

“Hey!” I feign insult at him for pinching my ass. “All right, all right,” I repeat. “I’ll be right back.”

To my surprise, there are new clothes in the bag. Thankfully, they’re fairly simple, comfortable ones—until I get to the flip-flops. They must be what I heard thump the side of the truck. In the largest stall, I hang the bag on the purse hook, take off my olive-green silk top, and put on a black V-neck tee. Next, I exchange my black capris for dark blue cutoffs that are frayed at the ends, slightly tickling the outsides of my thighs as I adapt to the feel of them.

I leave my ballet flats on and peek back into the bag. Letting out a long and low, exasperated sigh, I roll my eyes toward God in a prayer, though whether for April or myself, I’m not sure. Perhaps both if I decide to kill her for this later. More for Grayson than anyone, I take out the hot pink wedge flip-flops that have been blinged within an inch of their life and slip them on, shoving my other clothes unceremoniously into the plastic bag.

As I come through the scrolled double doors into the warm evening air, I’m surprised to see Grayson has changed into a crimson OU T-shirt, which he tucked into his dark-washed jeans. Even more surprising is the fact that he’s talking with a well-dressed, older couple in front of his truck. I pause, unsure if this is part of his plan or not. Is this some weird, Midwestern double-date thing? Hook up

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