Page 63 of Slick Trip

COOPER

“I’m just saying,” I said, kicking my feet up on the dashboard. “That our relationship changes things.”

Jon didn’t even glance at me. “Take your feet down.”

“Nope.”

“Now.”

I sighed dramatically, but dropped them anyway. “See?” I said. “That’s one example right there.”

“What?”

“You use that tone,” I said, waving a hand. “And suddenly I’m doing what you want. It’s very suspicious. Kind of hot too, but don’t let it go to your head.”

Jon actually snorted. “Believe me, having you as a boyfriend will be a daily reality check.”

“I know, I’m a catch.”

Jon didn’t say anything, and I felt a flicker of uncertainty creeping in.

“Am I?” I asked quietly. “A catch? Or do you secretly think I’m a nuisance?”

“Oh, it’s not a secret I think you’re a nuisance,” Jon said, squeezing my thigh. His hand felt warm and reassuring against my bare skin. “But you’re my nuisance. And definitely a catch.”

“Shut up,” I said, feeling ridiculously happy.

We drove in silence for a minute, the California sun spilling gold over the road ahead. I couldn’t believe we were almost at the end of our trip. I should buy Mom a thank-you gift for insisting Jon needed to come too.

“Imagine Jack’s face when he realizes we’re together.”

“I’d rather not,” Jon said dryly.

“Do you think he’ll be surprised?”

Jon threw me a look. “I don’t think anyone will be surprised, Coop.”

The meaning behind that—the inevitability of us—made me even happier.

We pulled over to get some snacks.

I stopped to marvel at all the secondary gender products I’d never noticed before. There were scent blockers and medical patches that delivered a small dose of synthetic Alpha pheromones, stacked neatly like any other over-the-counter product. I shuddered. The idea of getting a dose of Alpha pheromones that weren’t Jon’s felt scary and all kinds of wrong. I looked around, searching for him. I was suddenly anxious to inhale his scent. I needed his pheromones. He was already walking toward me, as if pulled by some invisible tether, when I felt a sharp jolt of pain. A man pushed into my side with his cart. Deliberately. The metal clipped the bare skin on my stomach.

“You’re an abomination,” he snarled, his eyes flicking between me and the shelf of Omega products.

I froze. This was what Mom had warned me about. It wasn’t like I was a stranger to bigots, I’d heard it all over the years, but this was the first time someone had insulted me—no, assaulted me—because I was an Omega. But before I could even open my mouth, I heard a low, primal sound. A growl.

Jon stepped between the man and me. He looked, if possible, even taller. Broader. So menacing that the man with the cart swallowed nervously. Jon grabbed him. Twisting his wrist, he forced the arm downward until the man dropped down with a cry.

“Did you have something to say?” Jon asked.

Tears of pain pooled in the man’s eyes when he shook his head.

Jon looked at him with disgust. “Didn’t think so.”

The man scrambled off, holding his wrist, as Jon took my hand in his and pulled me closer. The gentleness of his touch was such a stark contrast to what had just happened that I could only stare at him, completely and utterly in awe.

Carefully, he checked the spot where the cart had scraped me.