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I cringed, the idea of Peter getting any cockier than he already was, was just a recipe for disaster. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He pulled me in under his arm and dropped a light kiss on the top of my head.
“Sugar!”
Shit.
I looked up to see Wrench standing at the end of the supermarket aisle with his arms crossed over his chest, his hand twitching like at any moment he might pull out his gun and shoot Eric where he stood. Instantly, I pulled away, throwing Eric a shy apologetic smile to which he returned.
“I’ll see you around, Annabelle,” he murmured, his eyes moving to Wrench for a few brief seconds, enhancing the tension swirling in the already frigid air before turning and walking away.
For a second, my breath stalled.
Annabelle.
No, stop. That wasn’t me—that isn’t me.
His face.
His words.
Numb.
I was just numb. I wanted to be numb.
Wrench stormed toward me, his eyes narrowed and angry. “What the hell was that?” He grabbed my shoulder.
The shock of his touch brought me back. I sucked in a deep breath, my back bristled with the subtle accusation, and I turned my back. “I grew up around here, too, Wrench. I know people.”
His hand took hold of my arm, spinning me back around. “You don’t need to be mixing with people like him.”
I snatched my arm away and took a step back. “You don’t even know him. Just because he wears a nice suit and has a professional job, doesn’t mean he’s a complete asshole.”
“Wolf in sheep’s clothing,” he shot back, but before I could question him, he took my hand and pulled me toward the register. “Come on, let’s get to the hospital.”
I didn’t argue, given that this was the longest conversation we’d had in almost a week. But he was mistaken if he thought I’d let another man treat me like shit and try to control me.
Hell no.
Not again.
Never again.
