I took the can and downed half of it in one go. It was sweet, fake, and cold going down. Not terrible, but not good either.
“Tastes like someone melted gummy bears in a Sprite.”
She chuckled. “We might need to work on that, in case they ask you at Cody.”
“If they ask me, I’ll tell ‘em I drink coffee like a normal man.”
“Please don’t.”
It was a bluff. Outlaw paid me good money, and they'd cover my expenses if I made it to Vegas. But I wasn't about to admit that out loud.
She shook her head, but she was smiling. She had a good smile. I wished she'd quit using it on me.
She turned toward the door and paused, her hand on the frame. "Try to look somewhat happy when you drink it on camera."
I dropped my eyes back to the cinch strap, figuring that was the end of it. I didn't even get the buckle threaded before a sharp yelp echoed outside, followed by a muttered curse. A horse blew hard in one of the stalls.
I was on my feet before I'd decided to move. She backed into the doorway, swatting wildly at her shoulder.
"What?" I asked.
"A bee," she choked out. She took another step back, almost tripping.
I moved closer. Sure enough, a fat yellow jacket was circling her head.
“Oh god. No. No no no.”
“Don’t move.”
“It’s on me. Brock, it’s?—”
She turned her head, her eyes wide.
“Stay still, it’ll fly off?—”
“I can’t—please get it away from me?—”
Her voice cracked hard on the last word.
I crossed the gap, close enough to catch that damn perfume again. I put myself between her and the wasp, blocking its path. It veered off my shoulder, and I swiped it with the back of my hand, sending it spinning into the shadows under the shelves.
“Gone,” I said.
Frozen in place, she squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing coming in quick, shallow bursts. One hand was clamped around her opposite wrist.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey. It’s gone. Look at me.”
Those brown eyes snapped open, glassy and searching mine, like she needed proof.
She loosened the grip on her arm. Red marks from her nails were already fading on her skin.
"I'm terrified of bees." The words barely scraped past her throat. "Since I was a kid."
Her breathing hitched again, and I realized my hand was still on her shoulder. I pulled it back quick and took a step away, heat burning the back of my neck.
"You're fine," I said. "But you gotta stop wearing that perfume out here."
Her spine straightened, and that stubborn look came back over her face. “Why? You don’t like it?”
