Way to make her swipe left, Loch.
“Yeah.” Alena steps back, guardedly glancing at me. “Guess so.”
It’s all she says. Not that I blame her. She’s trained to observe, to be suspicious, and I just stole all the swagger from the air with my Captain Obvious comment.
“Here.” Jesse emerges from the back, carrying a sleeve of neon cups. Woodenly, he shoves them in my face, “Sorry. About. Being.Allout of cups. Can you pleasehelpme? And. Load them up? I am.Busy. With customers.”
No, he isn’t.
We’re the only ones in the store.
Clearly, Jesse didn’t take drama classes at his local high school.
“Sure.” I grab the sleeve, fighting an eye roll. “Got it. Thanks, man.”
He pivots again, marching back to his place behind the counter while I slide the row of cups into the dispenser.
Saving the last two, I hand one to Alena like I’m presenting a red rose, not a neon forty-ounce cup. But I keep my mouth shut. It’s not the skilled part of my body working right now. No, that part twitches in my pants.
Damn, she has pretty chestnut eyes.
And a cute smudge of dirt on her lips.
“Thank you.” She takes the cup while I hold my breath. Because she has manners, my silence forces her to comment, “Guess the Slurpeesarepopular here.”
Houston, we have lift off.
Now, be chill.
“Can’t blame ’em.” I gesture for her to go first while I quip, “A Slurpee a day keeps the assholes away.”
What did I just say?
Since when am I a poet? Maybe I should let Boner do the talking after all. He’s been well trained, while my mouth clearly suffers from amateur status.
Alena stifles her giggle, reaching for the cherry cola handle, filling her cup. “Never thought of it that way.” She grins. “Assholes and Slurpees. But if you say so.”
Don’t! Don’t say it! I don’t care what kinky vision you just got of how your tongue could show her, don’t you fucking dare!
I clench my jaw, nodding. Admiring her pour, I say, “Classic choice: cherry cola.” I reach for the handle on the machine beside her, filling my cup with neon green, then fluorescent yellow. “But I gotta go with this new combo—watermelon lime mixed with lemonade. Read about it inBon Appétitmagazine.”
Alena stops short, her jaw dropping. “You?Read about Slurpees? In aculinarymagazine?”
“Yeah, I’m a loyal fan of the drink.”
So is Alena.
She gets one every day around five thirty and seven thirty on weekends. Back home in Charleston, she’d go to the convenience store near Folly Beach, where I happened to be filling my full gas tank.
This goddamn gorgeous woman has no idea how I know everything about her, and how I’m not supposed to want her like my next breath.
I understand why her father needs to keep her safe. What our enemies could do to her makes me murderous.
But whatIcould do to her? It makes me want to kiss those mud-specked lips.
“Me too.” She finally gives me a smile, all radiant and reaching her eyes… and my chest explodes, my eyes blinking. She keeps talking, while I’m staring at the sun. “I get a Slurpee every day. They remind me of my mom. She loved them. Cherry cola. Classic, like she was.”
Sorry, Alena.
