You were just trying to enjoy your day—browsing racks at the mall, a few new fits in hand, earbuds in, mood set to vibes only. You weren’t bothering anyone. But peace, apparently, offended the wrong kind of people.

She found you near the fitting rooms—middle-aged, pressed slacks, hair sprayed to the heavens, and a look on her face like she’d smelled something rotten.

“Young lady,” she snapped, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Do you really think that outfit is appropriate to wear in public? It’s practically begging for the wrong kind of attention.”

You blinked, one earbud dangling as you turned to face her. Before you could roll your eyes and walk off, you saw him.

James.

Leaning against a nearby display, phone in hand, looking like a sin in motion. Tall, broad shoulders, dark tousled hair, that effortless smirk some guys were just born with. His eyes met yours. And oh—he was watching.

So if his mom wanted to moral-police you?

Fine.

You’d give her something to worry about.

You smirked and strolled right over to James, ignoring the woman still sputtering behind you. “Hey,” you purred, leaning in just a little too close. “Is she always this fun in public, or did I get lucky?”

His brow rose, lips twitching into a grin. “You tell me.”

Your hand found his forearm—light touch, innocent enough. Then your fingers slid down, trailing to his wrist, slow and suggestive. “I was just trying to shop,” you said, “but then I saw you, and suddenly my day got a whole lot more interesting.”

You moved in closer, letting your body brush his, your hand slipping up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “You have a name, or should I just keep calling you ‘hot guy with the judgmental mom’?”

“James,” he said, chuckling, not moving an inch away. “And you?”

“Trouble,” you whispered.

Behind you, his mother let out an audible gasp, nearly choking on her own disapproval.

“You know,” you added, turning just enough so she could see the way your hand curled around his belt loop, “I think I’ve found something much better than clothes.”

James looked between you and his mother, clearly enjoying the tension. “I think I’m starting to like your taste.”

You leaned up, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You have no idea.”

And as his mother’s horrified glare burned into your back, you couldn’t help but smile.