Chapter 1 #3
“Please. I swear, I’m fine,” I insisted.
He didn’t look convinced, but he helped me over to a chair and sat me down before crouching next to me. His worried gaze studied my face. “You’re pale.”
“I told you, I just need to eat.” But the thought of swallowing a single bite made my stomach twist.
With a scowl, he stood and returned to the counter. The cashier handed him the milkshake and an empty cup that he filled at the soft drink dispenser. He set them both on the table in front of me. “Drink.”
I only took the soda, sipping the unfamiliar sweet syrup. “Root beer?”
“Yes. It’ll help get your blood sugar up without adding caffeine to your system.” He nudged the milkshake closer. “This too.”
Unlike most of the population, I disliked chocolate. I could tolerate it in candy bars if there were other things—like caramel, cookie, or wafer—but I never chose plain chocolate anything.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when I made no move to take it.
“Nothing.” Not in a position to be picky about preferences, I took the heavy cup and forced myself to drink. It was cold and sugary, and I didn’t care that it tasted like artificial syrup. It was sustenance.
Kinda.
He watched me for a second before surmising, “You don’t like chocolate.”
“It’s fine.”
“What flavor do you want?”
“This is—”
“Little girl, I asked you a question.”
I glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”
Apparently, he didn’t find a frail five-foot-one woman menacing because he ignored my snapped order. “Answer the question, little girl.”
“Chocolate is fine.”
“Tell me what flavor, or I’ll order every single one.”
I didn’t even have to study him to know he wasn’t bluffing. On a sigh, I muttered, “Strawberry, please.”
“Don’t mumble,” he chided like I was a child before walking to the counter.
When he returned a minute later, it was with a new shake and a mountain of food on a tray. He set it all in front of me and sat in the chair opposite mine.
Saliva filled my mouth again, and it wasn’t out of anticipation. It was my empty stomach threatening to revolt.
I grabbed the burger that looked bigger than my head. Unwrapping it, I took a small bite. A burst of flavor exploded on my tongue, and I wanted to inhale more, but I knew how that would go. I returned it to the paper and chewed slowly, pacing myself.
His gaze went from me to the barely touched burger. “You don’t like it.”
“I do.”
“If you want something different—”
“It’s delicious. But when I’m this hungry, I have to go slow so I don’t, uh, get sick.”
That made his brow arch. “This happen a lot?”
Shit.
“No,” I lied.
And he knew it. He stared at me like he could read my thoughts, and his jaw clenched hard enough to make a muscle twitch. After a long, tense moment, he pushed the fries my way. “Eat.”
I grabbed one. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“No.”
“Why’d you order all this?”
“For you.”
Stopping with the fry halfway to my mouth, I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your angle here?”
“What do you mean?” He leaned back, draping a muscular arm over the empty chair next to him. Casual and relaxed and open.
I didn’t trust it.
“If you think I have a way to repay you, you’re out of luck.”
“What?”
I met his surprised gaze. “No one buys a stranger lunch for free—”
“I do.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Try to do something nice, and get accusations. Just a ray of sunshine.”
“Sorry, I don’t—”
“Just eat,” he said, thankfully cutting in since I had no clue how to finish that sentence.
As a kid, I’d taken care of myself. If anything, I’d often filled the role of parent to my mother. At work, I’d always done my job well and without needed supervision or direction.
No one ever told me what to do, but that seemed to be all the behemoth was capable of.
I wasn’t a fan.
But I would suck it up since he was feeding me rather than handing me over to security. I could deal with his bossiness for a little while longer.
I took another tentative bite of my burger, giving my stomach time to adjust.
Behemoth opened the veggie laden salad and dumped the ranch on before pushing it over.
“I don’t like salad,” I told him, too distracted by my nausea to think better of being an ungrateful bitch.
“I don’t care. You can’t just eat protein, fat, and carbs.”
I gestured toward the restaurant counter. “You’re the one who ordered this.”
“Because you need protein, fat, and carbs. But you also need vegetables.”
Gross.
My food pyramid was made up of two zones. Cheap food was at the top. Chicken nuggets. Cardboard-esque budget pizzas. Tater tots. Boxed mac and cheese. White rice. Processed items that could be bought on sale and stretched for multiple meals.
Coffee held the place of honor as the largest section on the bottom. That sludge did a lot of heavy lifting, fueling my body while also giving the illusion of fullness. Some days, it was most of my daily intake courtesy of the unlimited supply at work.
Or, rather, my ex-work.
When there was money in my budget for veggies, it was canned stuff. Not different types of vibrant green lettuce topped with fresh vegetable chunks.
“Eat it,” he ordered.
“You’re bossy,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
Shit, that was rude of me.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem insulted. “So I’ve been told.”
I forked up some of the salad, willing to gag down a bite or two if it would help my stomach. But when I grudgingly popped it into my mouth, it wasn’t gross.
“Holy shit, this is actually good.”
“Language,” he scolded, surprising me. He didn’t look like someone who would be offended by swearing, but what did I know?
Dressed in a gray suit and blindingly white shirt—though no tie—he could be one of the religious folks who rolled through on a misguided mission to save the sinners of Vegas.
Although they usually didn’t have hands covered in intricate tattoos. “But I’m glad you like it.”
My gaze shot to him, expecting a smirk or an I told you so, but there was nothing.
“I’m used to wilted iceberg and mealy tomatoes,” I said.
He nodded, nudging the salad closer.
I happily ate more because it sat better in my belly than the other food. Once it was halfway gone and my stomach felt more settled, I returned to the burger and fries.
The behemoth didn’t ask any probing questions or even talk. I ate while he drank my rejected chocolate shake.
I used the silence to discreetly study him, wondering who he was and why he was there.
He didn’t look like he was on vacation or out gambling. My guess was business—either a meeting or one of the countless conventions that took place daily. Or the whole religious, save-a-sinner thing.
I didn’t bother to ask because it was none of my business.
When I couldn’t possibly eat another bite, I rewrapped the remainder. He stood and started to pick up the tray, likely to toss it out.
So much wasted food.
Before I could think better of it, my hand shot out and covered his. I snatched it away just as fast. “I’ll bring the leftovers home.”
I knew the fries would taste like shit reheated and the burger would be a soggy mess, but I didn’t care. It was enough for dinner.
Or dinner and tomorrow’s lunch if I portioned it right.
His jaw clenched again for some reason—it seemed to be his default reaction to me. But he didn’t say anything and just lifted his chin before going to the cashier.
After getting a paper bag for everything, he turned around as someone called, “Hey, Ash!”
The man’s gaze shot to me like I’d been the one to shout. He wore an indecipherable expression on his face.
A moment later, it became clear why.
The security guard from earlier approached the behemoth, talking as he moved. It was obvious they knew each other.
Well… I was kind of right.
He is here for work.
Because this is his work.
With zero hesitation, I was up and running.
I only wished I didn’t have to leave my precious food behind.