Chapter 23
Clint didn’t hang around to see what Emily and Cook were up to. Maybe he should have, but he’d gotten pissed off watching the guy hug her and had to leave. More proof just how screwed up he was.
It was Friday. He’d gotten an advance on next week’s paycheck and, as his mama would have said, it was burning a hole in his pocket. Felt strange to have money. Felt even stranger to be pulling into the Piggly Wiggly to spend it.
Seemed the whole town had the same idea. The parking lot was jam-packed. About the only thing he’d ever taken the time to buy was clothes, the occasional gift for his mama, and beer. This would be his first time going for groceries.
Inside, after grabbing a shopping cart, he took his time moving down the first couple of aisles. He didn’t remember there being so many choices. The endless possibilities left him feeling a little bewildered and a whole lot intimidated.
Now there was a hell of a note. He’d stood up to guys twice his size in prison—cold-blooded killers—and here he was flustered by the dozen or so brands of jam and jelly.
He moved on. Studied the various kinds of loaf bread on the shelves.
White, wheat, white-wheat, honey-wheat. He gave up and grabbed a loaf of white.
Ray had stocked Clint’s shelves with canned and dried goods.
Mainly all he needed was sandwich makings.
Ham, bologna, cheese. And milk. Maybe some eggs and bacon.
Shoppers moved past him; those who recognized him stared briefly, then hurried on by.
He didn’t let on that he noticed, kept his attention focused on sifting through the available cheeses.
That was a big enough problem all by itself.
He played it safe and went with a block of cheddar and some sliced American.
A mother with two children in her cart moved wide around him, her horrified gaze glued to him until she’d gotten well beyond where he stood.
Now that he couldn’t ignore. The idea that the woman thought her kids were in danger in his presence got to him more than it should have.
He stared after her for several seconds.
He didn’t recognize her, but she’d definitely recognized him.
But then, what had he expected? The local paper had run something about him every day since he’d gotten back to town.
He refused to give Ray credit for warning him about this.
He wasn’t ashamed. Annoyed maybe, but not ashamed.
He picked up a jug of whole milk and placed it into his cart. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he hesitated before moving out of the dairy department. Slowly, he turned to find Emily watching him from the end of the canned fruits and vegetables aisle.
Those big brown eyes widened, but she didn’t even flinch when he openly stared back at her. For the first time since he’d come back to Pine Bluff he wondered what she was really thinking.
Did she actually believe that following him around like this, watching him, was going to make a difference?
He thought of the way she’d come into his house.
He’d seen the regret on her face when she had first looked at what some asshole had done to his mother’s things.
But then Ray had said something that got to her and she’d gone off on a tangent about how she hoped Clint rotted in hell or some such.
He didn’t believe her.
Not anymore.
He’d gotten close to her when he’d stormed out to her car that evening, ready to give her a piece of his mind. Yeah, he’d gotten damned close. Close enough to see the way the pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. To smell the softness of her skin. And to hear her breath catch at his nearness.
She could shout to high heaven just how much she hated him, but there was still something between them. Something visceral and totally beyond her or his control.
He turned away from her, picked out a package of bacon, and headed for the checkout line.
So much for amateur psychology hour.
Bottom line, they were both completely screwed up.
He chose the checkout lane with only two customers and waited his turn.
He kept his gaze on the back of the head of the woman who stood in front of him, in hopes of ignoring the whispering the other folks in line on either side had started the moment he walked up.
If he even glanced at any of them they would go around telling people how he’d done or said something he hadn’t.
Might as well avoid any unnecessary scandal.
Wouldn’t want to upset the good citizens of Pine Bluff. Or provide more fodder for the paper.
Besides, he could take it. When they realized he wasn’t giving up and leaving town, they’d get over it and find something else to gossip about.
When his turn to check out came, he placed the goods he’d selected on the counter and waited. Once the casher had finalized the sale with the customer in front of Clint, he expected her to move on to him, but she didn’t.
She put out her Closed sign and walked off. Left him standing there.
Surprised, he watched her a moment thinking maybe she just needed to get some more change or something, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come back.
Annoyed but refusing to let it show, he loaded his stuff back into his cart and moved to the next line. His turn came again and he transferred his stuff to the counter and waited for the cashier to do her part.
She didn’t even look at him. Just put out her Closed sign and walked away.
What the hell?
Most of the other customers were staring at him at this point. The first cashier had returned to her register and a new line had formed.
Clint exhaled his frustration, loaded his shit back into the cart, and moved on to another checkout lane.
When the Closed sign came out for the third time he’d had enough.
He abandoned his shopping cart and headed for the exit.
In a pissed-off zone that threatened his feeble hold on control, he didn’t even notice Emily standing there staring at him until he’d practically bumped into her.
He should’ve walked around her, but he couldn’t do it. Instead, he went stupid and pinned her with an icy glare. “Did you enjoy that?”
Those big brown eyes, looking uncertain or startled, held his for three seconds, then four, before she looked away.
He walked out.
Left her standing there with every customer within hearing range staring at her.
He jumped into his Firebird and roared out of the parking lot. Drove straight to the Sack & Go and purchased a twelve-pack of cheap beer. He didn’t give a damn if it would test his hold on control.
Right now he just needed to escape his new prison.