“What are you doing?” “Are you shopping with us?” Waylay asked. She didn’t sound horrified—she sounded excited. Damn you, Knox Morgan. “Got some things on my own shopping list. Figured you ladies could show me the ropes.” We entered the air-conditioned mall, and with a cursory glance in my direction, Waylay made a beeline for an accessories store. As soon as she disappeared into the store, I grabbed Knox’s tattooed arm. “What. Are. You. Doing?” “Shopping.”
