Maisie
. . .
THIRTY-SIX
Note to self, going to the only grocery store in town at five at night is the worst idea ever.
Every aisle is packed, so I can’t squeeze my cart through or secretly stock up on more lube to keep up with Grayson’s libido.
We’ve been fucking like jackrabbits. I’m not complaining, but any extra lubricant will do wonders for my lady bits.
I’m grabbing my last item when I remember Aunt Flow should be hitting any day now.
I rush to the feminine aisle when a familiar set of ocean blue eyes and tattoos for days comes into view.
As soon as Hunter sees me, her face pales.
I don’t see what she plops into her basket before she’s hiding it behind her back.
“Good to see you too,” I tease, pulling her in for a hug. I snatch a box of tampons from the shelf behind her. “Mother Nature knocking on your door too?”
She awkwardly laughs, looking down at the floor. “Yeah, something like that,” she mumbles.
“Everything okay?”
Her eyes snap to mine, her signature give no fucks mask back on.
“Why wouldn't it be?” She shoots me a finger gun with the hand not holding her basket behind her back. “Just living the dream, bleeding from my cooch, and serving assholes drinks all night through cramps that feel like I’m giving birth. What more could a girl want?” she teases.
“Oh, the joys of womanhood,” I chirp back. “You look exhausted, though, girl. They are working you to the grave at that job. You need some days off, specifically one when we get to have one of your legendary margarita nights.”
She smiles, but it looks pained. “Yeah, totally, babes. We’ve been short staffed, so I’m not sure when I’ll get some time off, but I’ll totally text you.” A genuine smile graces her face, and she pulls me in for a tight hug. “You’re a good friend, Maisie."
She holds on longer than normal, so I squeeze her back before pulling away. “You know I’m always one text away, right?”
“Of course,” she replies, putting space between us. “I have to go, or I’ll be late for my shift, but I would love to have that girls’ night sometime.” She doesn’t wait before rushing towards self-checkout.
“Goodbye to you too,” I call out, giggling at the weird exchange.
I knock another tampon box into my cart for good measure so I don’t have to come back. I’ve been getting better about the car, but I still have my bad days.
I decide one more stop down the ice cream aisle won't hurt. A shadow forms behind me when I turn down the aisle, but I dismiss it. I look through the flavors, grabbing the strawberry cheesecake pint. A man in all black is looking at the ice cream bars at the end, and I find it odd he isn’t pulling any out to look at. No basket either.
I’ll be the first to admit I can be a bit of a paranoid over-reactor, but my gut is telling me this man is no good.
Just to be safe, I decide to go to the cleaning aisle, where most shoppers wouldn’t visit regularly.
Sure enough, my suspicions are confirmed.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the feeling of being watched.
I pretend to look at some shower spray when the same man saunters in from the other end, looking at brooms.
My phone is in my hand, and I’m shooting off a text to Grayson. I would normally call him, but I don’t want to tip off the man. I still could be overreacting, but his slimy gaze on me is making every alarm bell go off in my head.
Grayson texts back immediately, telling me to go to the cash registers and wait for him there.
I do so, wanting to get home and into the safety of his arms. I’m checked out in minutes, waiting by the front door as Grayson texts me every minute, making sure I’m okay.
I can’t see the man anymore, but I feel his eyes on me.
Grayson’s truck screams into the parking lot less than ten minutes later. He runs in, checking me over before grabbing my hand and escorting me out to the truck.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I promise him. “Better now that you’re here.”
He kisses my knuckles, helping load up my groceries. “Get in the truck and lock the doors. I’ll be right back, and then I’ll follow you home. Okay?”
I nod, getting in and starting it. He gives me a stern look, and I remember to lock it like he asked before he’s rushing back into the store. He’s only in there for a couple minutes before he runs back out, tapping on my window. I roll it down.
“I didn’t see anyone, but that doesn't mean they weren’t there. You did the right thing by texting me. I will always come running if you call. Always,” he promises, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll follow you back home.”
Home. What a concept. It feels less like a place and more like a person now.
Research Notes: cowboys protect what’s theirs.