A tribe.
Before they reached the body wash section, Shamrock began, “Your creepy encounter aside?—"
Fly exhaled hard through his nose.
“What, too soon?” Shamrock asked.
“Yes, Cormac. Fucking too soon,” Fly bit out.
Than squeezed Fly’s shoulder, quiet gratitude passing through the contact. “It’s okay. What did you want to say?”
Shamrock narrowed his eyes like he wasn’t sure if this was a trap. “You sure?”
“Yes. If it gets us out of here any faster.”
Fly snorted. “Now he’s getting it.”
Shamrock feigned a laugh, then said, “No lady can resist Campfire Whiskey.”
Than and Fly just stared at him.
“Underarm deodorant,” Shamrock said helpfully. “That’s gonna get you the right kind of female attention.”
Just then, a woman pushing a cart slowed beside them. She looked Shamrock up and down, then took a deep inhale. “I think you’d smell great in Arctic Avalanche,” she said, voice flirty.
Shamrock’s eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery. “Do you, now, lass?”
She giggled and moved on with a soft sigh that may or may not have been parting regret.
“I don’t know what’s in the air,” Fly muttered. “But let’s move.”
They reached the body wash aisle and Than froze.
His eyes widened as he scanned the shelves.
“This...has nothing on chips. How are we supposed to choose? Does the list give us a clue?”
Fly shook his head grimly. “Just says ‘body wash.’”
Than folded his arms, feeling suddenly unprepared for the most civilian moment of the entire task.
There were rows of options:
Fruity: pomegranate & mango, honeysuckle & orange burst
Floral: silk & magnolia, pink rose & sweet vanilla
Herbal: cucumber & green tea, eucalyptus & mint
Woody: blue cedar & cypress, bourbon & oak
Shamrock picked up one bottle from each end of the spectrum, cucumber & green tea in one hand, bourbon & oak in the other.
“Geez,” he muttered. “Are these salad fixin’s or cocktail ingredients? Would I want a woman to smell like bourbon?” He glanced at Than, brow raised in consideration. “Maybe if I were an alcoholic...could be both dangerous and arousing.” He handed Than the two bottles like a man surrendering to fate. “Yeah, I’m, out.”
Than and Fly looked at each other. When they looked back, Shamrock was gone.
“Goddammit,” Fly muttered. “He’s loose and this isn’t brain surgery.” He faced Than. “Look, you come from her tribe, right?”
