Read Online Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1) by C. J. Pinard - Free Book Online
Authors: C. J. Pinard
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reached it, he began loading our items on the belt. I saw him
pick up a small packet from one of the items near the check-out,
and held it up. To my mortification, it was a packet of
“Midol.”
“For your bitchiness,” he growled,
tossing it in the cart. Then he grabbed two more and threw them on
the belt.
When he had to load my tampons, he
picked up the box like it might bite him, and before I could get
mad at his bitchiness comment, I was laughing at how ridiculous he
was being.
“I can load the belt, if it upsets you
that bad,” I said, goading him some more.
“I can handle it just fine,” he
snapped.
“Oh, okay. Well it looked like you
were having some trouble there, Cowboy.”
He stopped what he was doing, and
looked at me square in the eye. A little bit of excitement
fluttered in my stomach at the eye contact. Then he said, “Ya know,
I’m glad you’re having your monthly whatever. I was wondering on
the ride here if you were always this moody, but I’m glad to see it
was just this.” He pointed to the tampon box.
I stomped a foot. “That’s
rude!”
I saw him grin as if he’d bested me.
That’s it. I’m gonna put salt in his coffee or something
tomorrow.
As the male cashier, who looked no
older than 20, was beeping the items over the scanner, I saw him
shoot Duke a sympathetic glance and that annoyed me. They were both
acting like I was some menstruating girlzilla on a rampage. I
thought I’d been pretty reserved. Assholes, both of
them.
I watched Duke take a wad of cash from
his pocket and pay for the items. Obviously, neither of us could
use our cards, and I was secretly happy the government was paying
for my feminine products, my books, and my damn
chocolate.
After walking to the car in silence,
he loaded our things into the small trunk of the sports car, then
darted his eyes around the parking lot, his hand hovering near his
weapon.
It was mid-afternoon, and I watched
him take the same highway back toward our old, ugly cabin. Deciding
he already clearly disliked me, I figured I had nothing to lose
when I asked, “Can’t we go somewhere else and not back to that
place? It’s already wearing on me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” I whined, and instantly
cringed at the sound of my own voice.
He huffed. “This isn’t a vacation, and
that,” he said, jerking a thumb behind us, “was the last time we’ll
be going into town.”
“I know it’s not a vacation.” I
decided I’d try some charm. “You’re doing such a good job
protecting me.” I laid it on thick now, placing my hand on his arm
closest to me. “We could go somewhere like a park or somewhere
public, where I can get some sunshine. Couldn’t we? Can we at least
go get some fast food? I have cash, I can pay for it.”
He looked down at my pale hand on his
tanned arm, and then looked at me briefly before putting his eyes
back on the road. In the fleeting couple of seconds he looked at
me, I could see that warmth I liked. I thought he’d be angry, but
he wasn’t. He did, however, use that same arm to grab his mirrored
sunglasses from the visor of the car, slamming them on his face
with more force than necessary. With a Styrofoam cup still in the
cup holder, he spat a stream into it, and kept his eyes on the
road.
I put my hands back in my lap and
sighed. He never answered my question. He just continued to steer
the car down the highway toward the cabin. I saw him have to pull
out the paper map once, but otherwise, he knew his way. I soon
found myself staring at the old trees that lined the small dirt
road that led to our prison.
We only had 4 bags. Duke grabbed all
four and then armed the car’s alarm, and with his eyes darting to
and fro, he made sure nobody was around. Before going into the
house, he made me wait outside while he checked inside. It didn’t
take him more than 30 seconds to come back outside to tell me it
was safe to come in.
I knew why he did it, but it did seem
a
pick up a small packet from one of the items near the check-out,
and held it up. To my mortification, it was a packet of
“Midol.”
“For your bitchiness,” he growled,
tossing it in the cart. Then he grabbed two more and threw them on
the belt.
When he had to load my tampons, he
picked up the box like it might bite him, and before I could get
mad at his bitchiness comment, I was laughing at how ridiculous he
was being.
“I can load the belt, if it upsets you
that bad,” I said, goading him some more.
“I can handle it just fine,” he
snapped.
“Oh, okay. Well it looked like you
were having some trouble there, Cowboy.”
He stopped what he was doing, and
looked at me square in the eye. A little bit of excitement
fluttered in my stomach at the eye contact. Then he said, “Ya know,
I’m glad you’re having your monthly whatever. I was wondering on
the ride here if you were always this moody, but I’m glad to see it
was just this.” He pointed to the tampon box.
I stomped a foot. “That’s
rude!”
I saw him grin as if he’d bested me.
That’s it. I’m gonna put salt in his coffee or something
tomorrow.
As the male cashier, who looked no
older than 20, was beeping the items over the scanner, I saw him
shoot Duke a sympathetic glance and that annoyed me. They were both
acting like I was some menstruating girlzilla on a rampage. I
thought I’d been pretty reserved. Assholes, both of
them.
I watched Duke take a wad of cash from
his pocket and pay for the items. Obviously, neither of us could
use our cards, and I was secretly happy the government was paying
for my feminine products, my books, and my damn
chocolate.
After walking to the car in silence,
he loaded our things into the small trunk of the sports car, then
darted his eyes around the parking lot, his hand hovering near his
weapon.
It was mid-afternoon, and I watched
him take the same highway back toward our old, ugly cabin. Deciding
he already clearly disliked me, I figured I had nothing to lose
when I asked, “Can’t we go somewhere else and not back to that
place? It’s already wearing on me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” I whined, and instantly
cringed at the sound of my own voice.
He huffed. “This isn’t a vacation, and
that,” he said, jerking a thumb behind us, “was the last time we’ll
be going into town.”
“I know it’s not a vacation.” I
decided I’d try some charm. “You’re doing such a good job
protecting me.” I laid it on thick now, placing my hand on his arm
closest to me. “We could go somewhere like a park or somewhere
public, where I can get some sunshine. Couldn’t we? Can we at least
go get some fast food? I have cash, I can pay for it.”
He looked down at my pale hand on his
tanned arm, and then looked at me briefly before putting his eyes
back on the road. In the fleeting couple of seconds he looked at
me, I could see that warmth I liked. I thought he’d be angry, but
he wasn’t. He did, however, use that same arm to grab his mirrored
sunglasses from the visor of the car, slamming them on his face
with more force than necessary. With a Styrofoam cup still in the
cup holder, he spat a stream into it, and kept his eyes on the
road.
I put my hands back in my lap and
sighed. He never answered my question. He just continued to steer
the car down the highway toward the cabin. I saw him have to pull
out the paper map once, but otherwise, he knew his way. I soon
found myself staring at the old trees that lined the small dirt
road that led to our prison.
We only had 4 bags. Duke grabbed all
four and then armed the car’s alarm, and with his eyes darting to
and fro, he made sure nobody was around. Before going into the
house, he made me wait outside while he checked inside. It didn’t
take him more than 30 seconds to come back outside to tell me it
was safe to come in.
I knew why he did it, but it did seem
a
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