Page 3 of Bottles & Blades

A block of cheese.

“And that too,” I murmur, doing some mental math. “And the bread,” I add when she puts that aside, starts to scan.

More eye rolls, but my math proves to be on point because by the time she finishes scanning—minus the cheese and bread and wine—I have enough left in my account to cover everything else.

I click the button on the side of my phone.

Do another wave of my cell, hear thatbleep-beep.

And ignore the surly cashier as I bag my items, gather up my receipt, and head out of the store.

I’m putting my bags into my trunk when I feel a presence behind me.

I slam it closed, spin around, and?—

See the man from the store standing there, eyes flashing, body big and broad and giving more than a few Daddy vibes.

My heart skips a beat.

Warmth blooms in my belly.

Lower.

He’s too old for me.

But my mind is running away with itself anyway.

“Can I help you—?” I begin.

“Come with me,” he mutters.

Before I can protest, he wraps his fingers around my arm.

And drags me away from my car.

Two

Jean-Michel

This is dumb as fuck.

And potentially lawsuit-inducing.

But I can’t bring myself to care as I drag her to my truck.

“Let me go!” she snaps, yanking at my arm with surprising strength for someone so tiny.

Her wrist is slender, my fingers wrapped completely around it with plenty of room to spare, and she barely comes up to my shoulder.

“Let.” A tug. “Me.” Another. “Go!”

I release her…to shove her into the passenger’s seat of my truck.

Her eyes flare wide with shock, but only for a second before she recovers, immediately trying to push by me.

“Move,” she snaps.

I stay put, stepping between the open door and her body, making sure she can’t escape.

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