Oh, my god!
We’re really doing this.
“Unless…” He trails, giving me a challenging stare. “You’rescared. Are you scared, Addison?”
My head rears. “What? No!”
He tucks his hands under his armpits before tilting his head. “Bawk, bawk, bawk!” He squawks like a chicken loud enough to turn a few heads. “I’m the one wearing the cock shirt, but if I remember correctly,” he lifts his head over the aisle, “you were the one stroking my cock—”
I hiss as I grab his shirt and yank him back down to me. The smirk he gives me is malicious and dangerous as I silence him. “Okay, you fucking psycho! I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl,” he preens.
We both fall quiet, and I feel my cheeks flame with heat. Rowan blinks quickly, shaking his head as he lifts an arm in the direction of the register. “After you.”
“Right,” I mumble, walking ahead.
I try to ignore the racing of my heart as I set everything down on the counter.
The employee lifts a brow. “Anything else?”
“Nope,” I pop thep.
Rowan picks up a pink phone charger before tossing it back on the counter. “I have a charger in my truck.”
“A truck you won’t have in the next hour,” I remind him quietly.
The employee’s eyes bounce between us before she goes back to ringing up the items. “That’ll be seventy-eight dollars and twenty-five cents.”
Rowan grumbles as he swipes his card. “I hope you’re happy.”
“Ecstatic,” I smile.
“Meet you outside,” he says, taking the bags before stalking out the door, and I’m left speechless as I peer around at the crowd of people shuffling around me.
That jackass!
I throw my hands up, pacing in a circle as I figure out where to start. “Please, let this work. HELP ME! HELP!” I fall to my knees exaggeratedly, gripping my left boob. “HELP ME, PLEASE!”
I pretend to sob, my face twisting in faux pain as people scurry around me. A crowd surrounds me as a middle-aged man pushes through. He’s dressed in a crisp, white button-down and slacks. His hair is styled freshly, and his appearance should have been my first clue that this man is a professional.
“I’m a doctor!” He announces before dropping down to his knees beside me.
Fucking great.
What are the odds?
“Where is the pain?” He asks, placing his hand over mine.
“My heart,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Your heart?” He asks. “Do you feel it in your left arm?”
I nod vigorously. “Please! I can't breathe!” I pretend to have shortness of breath, the sound wheezing from me as I inhale and exhale.
“Could you be having a panic attack? Do you have a history of panic attacks?” The doctor asks.
There’s the sound of a horn blaring through the parking lot, and I shoot up from my position. “Um, false alarm. It was gas.”
