Page 1 of More Than a Hero
1
Angie Brown barely waited for the sliding glass doors to open before she burst through the front of Stuart's Pharmacy. Her breath came in short pants as she made a beeline for the prescription counter near the back.
“Oh my God, you're a lifesaver!” she gushed, her purple-framed glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she grinned at the pharmacist behind the elevated counter.
Thomas chuckled as he glanced down at her from his perch, his smile wide. “No worries, Angie. You know I’ve got you. We've got a couple of folks ahead of you, but give me a few minutes, and I’ll have it ready.”
Relief flooded through Angie as she exhaled a grateful breath. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart before stepping aside to make room for an older couple waiting nearby.
She inhaled deeply, catching the comforting scent of vanilla and antiseptic—an odd but familiar combination in the small hometown pharmacy. Stuart’s was more than just a pharmacy—it was a staple of the community. The short aisles brimmed with everyday essentials, saving residents a trip out of town to one ofthe stores scattered along the main highway that cut through the Eastern Shore.
When vacationers hit the town during tourist season, they perused the sections filled with Baytown souvenirs, flip-flops, and brightly colored T-shirts. But what Angie loved most was the attached old-time diner that served simple yet mouthwatering meals, from thick milkshakes to their iconic sweet potato pancakes.
Just thinking about those pancakes made her stomach rumble, and she made a mental note to come in next weekend for a big breakfast.
She wandered down the aisles, checking her list. “Band-Aids? No. Vitamins? Yes. Deodorant? No. Toothpaste? Yes,” she murmured to herself, her arms filling quickly with her selections. Rounding the final aisle, she stopped short, eyes landing on the feminine hygiene products. “Shit... yes.” She grabbed a box of tampons and a package of pantyliners, but then remembered she needed ibuprofen.
Juggling her haul, she turned the corner and collided with something solid and unyielding.
Her breath whooshed out as her grip faltered, sending boxes and bottles tumbling to the floor. A pair of strong hands shot out, gripping her upper arms, steadying her before she could crash to the ground.
“Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” she gasped, clutching onto the person she'd just barreled into.
“No apology necessary,” replied the deep, steady voice.
Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto familiar stormy-gray ones. His soft brown hair was long enough on top that it was brushed back, giving him a slightly tousled appearance. His neatly trimmed beard framed a perfect mouth. When he smiled, his lips curved higher on one side than the other. To many, it would appear as a smirk, but in the few times she’d talked tohim, she knew he was quiet. Introspective. And the smile? Not a smirk, but more of a shy grin that captured her attention from the first time he’d shared it in her presence.
Detective Pete Bolton.Of course. The man who’d put her off when she’d asked him to dinner and never called back. “Detective Bolton?” she managed to squeak out, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“Ms. Brown,” he acknowledged with a nod. His hands, still lightly grasping her arms, flexed for a moment before he let go. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she assured, offering him a bright smile.
Truthfully, she liked the feel of his hands on her more than she cared to admit. Since meeting him weeks ago, he had crossed her mind far too often. Something about his serious, reserved nature intrigued her.
“Here, let me help,” he said, crouching to retrieve her scattered purchases.
She dropped to her knees beside him, reaching for the toothpaste. A sharp twinge shot up her knee, but she barely registered it when she realized what Pete had in his hand.
Tampons.Oh hell.
She lunged, grabbing for them, but he had also picked up the package of pantyliners. Her face burned with unnecessary blush. She wasn’t embarrassed but assumed he would be when he realized what he held.Great. Of all the ways to run into him, it had to be in the pharmacy, mid-PMS, with him holding the evidence. Only me.
He stood smoothly, holding the items in one large hand while offering the other to help her up. Without hesitation, she slipped her smaller hand into his, letting him pull her to her feet, wincing slightly at the pain in her knee.
“I’m so sorry, again,” she said with a breathy chuckle, brushing nonexistent dust off her skirt. “I’ll take those from you.”
He handed them over without the slightest hint of discomfort.
“I’m glad you weren’t embarrassed to pick those up.” She leaned closer. “Some men get really weirded out.”
“No reason to,” he said with a shrug. “All normal stuff.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “You have a sister.”
His brows rose slightly. “Uh… yeah, I do.”
She grinned. “I can tell. Men with sisters tend to be more comfortable with these things. That, or men with strong mothers.”
