He stands, his gaze shifting from Ollie to me. I avert my attention to the cashier ringing up my remaining items. I place Frankie back into the cart and pull my credit card from my wallet.
I insert the card and wait, keeping an eye on Ollie and the man behind me—the one I’m not sure what to make of.
The credit card reader beeps. Declined. I run it again while the cashier waits, organizing Slade’s chips and beer.
The machine beeps again, and my gut rolls into a hard knot and drops to my pelvic floor with the feel of his eyes on me.Shiiiiittt.
The cashier taps something on her screen and turns to me. “Do you want me to try it over here?” She holds out her hand.
I glance at the total and quickly flip through my cash, knowing I don’t have enough. A burning itch crawls up my neck, most likely along with red splotches, and a bead of sweat rolls down my side. I pull out the credit card I received in the mail for emergencies only. Right now feels like an emergency.
I insert the card, and in no time, the receipt prints. Thank God. I push my cart to the end of the counter, and Ollie follows. Slade moves down to help load the plastic bags into my cart.
“Ummmm . . . I think I missed these.” The cashier holds my box of tampons in the air. “They got stuck to the side behind his beer.”
And this is how my life goes. Why can’t just one thing be easy?
“I got it,” Slade tells her, motioning for her to place them in the bag with chips.
He quickly completes his transaction, and we push our carts toward the exit. The rush of cool air from the opening doors feels amazing against my hot skin.
Slade hands me my tampons. “This clearly isn’t your full grocery haul, but I would’ve liked to see you try to get this on the bus, especially with these two.”
I peek at him, and there’s just the slightest tilt to his lips behind that short beard. My anxiety slowly dissipates.
“Ha. You just underestimate me.” I stop the cart at the back of his truck and pull Frankie from it.
Those grass-green eyes move to the corner as he slowly turns his attention to me. He blinks once, twice, but doesn’t move an inch.
My body begins to heat all over again. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but something tells me it’s probably best if I never know.
Chapter 9
SLADE
“Piece of shit!”
The ratchet clangs to the floor.
“If you broke the tensioner, it’s coming out of your paycheck,” I holler.
Carson groans. “What if I lose a finger? You gonna charge me for that, too?”
“Depends on how much of a mess you make.” I pull my phone from my pocket.
ME: Parts have shipped. I need to know about brakes, rotors, and tires.
SARAH: Know what? Google provides in-depth information about each.
ME: If you want them replaced.
SARAH: Brb
ME: Are you Googling it?
SARAH: Nooooo! On hold to speak with a mechanic who delivers sucky news with a smile.
ME: Text me when they say you need new struts and calipers and strip your lug nuts.
