Actually… yeah, kind of. But I don’t have a good enough reason to warrant it, so I sigh instead. “No, that’s okay. Just keep me company until they’re gone?”
As easy as breathing, he sets me down to sit on top of his car, stepping between my legs and resting his palms beside my thighs, caging me in. “Do you have any idea how reckless it was to throw yourself at the mercy of a stranger?”
“Absolutely. But you’re not going to hurt me, so it’s fine.”
His soft green eyes widen in surprise. “Why on earth would you assume that? I could crush you without breaking a sweat.”
Weird flex, but jokes on him, I’m into it.
He would have no trouble throwing me around if he wanted to, but the visions it conjures make it seem more like a reward than a threat.
“Because if youweregoing to hurt me, you’d have ripped my head off when I ambushed you and added it to the spikes to ward off visitors from your swamp.”
He pauses for only a second before bursting into laughter that shakes his whole chest. “That’s an awful lot of confidence for such a little thing. What if I was a serial killer?”
“The odds are astronomical that there’d be two in one town.”
The smile that takes over his face steals my breath away. Before I can recover, he leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth and murmuring, “They keep shooting murderous looks in my direction, but are about half a block down now, so I think you’re in the clear.”
Why does that information kick me in the gut?
“Thanks for letting me use you. I should probably get going then if you want to let me down?”
His hesitation sets every needy desire I’ve ever suppressed alight with hope I have to mentally punch in the face. I havethree,four I guess, if I’m being technical,mates. That’s more than enough dicks to juggle. After growing up ostracized, it’s more than I ever dreamed I’d find. I have no business dragging another person into the clown show that is my life.
If wishes were fishes, we’d all drown, or however the saying goes.
“Not particularly. Where were you headed before you decided to climb me like a tree?” he rumbles, and heat suffuses my cheeks. I attempt to wiggle my way out of his grip, but his hold is rock solid. After a futile minute of squirming, he relents with a put-out sigh and gently sets me back on my feet.
“The grocery store?”
I can’t even tell you why I phrase it like a question. But something about this mountain of a man has me all shaken up.
“Perfect, me too.” We walk the rest of the distance in companionable silence, and I take the opportunity to study the man I hitched my survival on. He’s the BFG; big, fuckable giant. Damn near seven feet tall, stacked with enough muscle to make gym bros cry into their protein shakes, and a unique blend of dark blond and light brown hair threaded into viking style braids that end just past his shoulders. Tattoos decorate his knuckles and crawl up beneath the long sleeves of his shirt, peeking out beneath his collar to adorn his neck. It’s the soft green eyes that really do me in, though. Seeing far more than you’d expect a man his size to.
“Shit,” he breathes, staring down at his phone with a pained expression. Pulling out a hundred dollar bill from his wallet, he slips it into my hand and commands, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me. For your own safety.”
With that, he’s just… gone. Disappears out the doors without a trace like he never existed at all. I didn’t even get his name.
It’s probably my Havoc trauma, but it hits me harder than I expected when the sliding doors close behind him. It’s a goodfive minutes before I have my emotions stuffed down into an impenetrable box and grab a cart, wandering the aisles. I’m able to get far more than I anticipated thanks to the weekly sales going on in addition to the money my savior left as a parting gift, so I roll up to the register feeling like life has finally started to fall in my favor after twenty-four years of an uphill slog.
That really should have been my first clue.
“I-it’s covered," the cashier stammers, and I frown, super confused.
“What do you mean, covered? That’s not how stores work. How the hell would someone know what I was going to buy enough to estimate a pay it forward thing?Whywould they in the first place?”
The teenage cashier swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he avoids meeting my gaze. “He was very clear, ma’am. Anything you purchased was to be charged to his card.”
My first thought- ma’am?Seriously?Talk about a punch to the gut. I’m nowhere old enough to be ama’amanywhere but an elementary school, and it’s yet another dropkick to my already abused self-esteem.
Second? There are only three possible men he could be referring to. Two of which I’d be frustrated about, but could accept why they’d make the assumption and have a calm, rational conversation with when I get home.
Reading the annoyed confusion on my face, the cashier blurts, “The guild master, ma’am. He was very specific in his demands. Every register in every store in town has a picture of you with a note now, so there won’t be any confusion with shift changes or new hires, you don’t need to worry. No need to call your mate, we have everything handled. Will this be all, or is there something else you need? I could send someone to grab it. No trouble at all, seriously,” he says, sweat trickling down his temple.
Are eye twitches a sign of a heart attack? Because either I’m about to die, or someone else is.
“Please hold.” Abandoning my spot in line, I walk past the people behind me, grabbing things at random. Some chips, a comforter set, and Jules’s favorite brand of socks to keep his tail covered in our icebox of a house. After a moment of hesitation, I go back for a couple of slim, electric space heaters as well. Walking past the annoyed customers, I plop it all on the belt, and the cashier rings them up like his life depends on it, a cart of bagged items already waiting for me.
