Page 67 of Her Reluctant Hero
Condoms. A dozen.
She looked from the box to him. “I don’t know what you’re going to be doing, but I’m going to be reading.”
“In case the opportunity comes up. Wouldn’t do to be caught without.”
“Boy Scout,” she muttered. In retaliation, she grabbed two bags of chips, two jars of dip, two Diet Cokes and five candy bars and threw them in her basket. He didn’t even blink when she unloaded her products.
She did wince when the total took more of a chunk out of her cash than she expected. He grinned as he hefted her bags as well as his to cart to the truck.
“Gotta be careful,” he said on the way out. “We don’t know how long we’ll be without a cash flow.” He loaded the bags with the cans and the bottled water into the back of the truck, tossed the rest under her feet in the cab. “Even when you get Hector back, you gotta think of what you’re going to do next. Won’t be easy getting a job.”
“No.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“What kind of thing were you looking at?”
Now he wanted to talk? Was he trying to guarantee that he would use some of those condoms and the price wouldn’t be wasted?
“I don’t know. I don’t exactly have a lot of qualifications. I didn’t finish college, I’ve only had one job.”
“Which you don’t want to do with a kid.”
“Which I may have to.”
“When he finds out what you are? Then what?”
She hated even thinking that he was right. She didn’t want a job she’d have to hide from her child, and she didn’t want a job where she’d leave him at night, not in the long run. But maybe for now. “He’s young, Alex.”
“You think you can hide it from him.”
“I can make a good living at it. Just tonight I made sixty bucks, with one dance.”
“Twenty of that was mine.”
Anger snapped her head up. “You want it back?”
“I’m just saying. You need to get a real job.”
She couldn’t think of that now. She shoved her hair back from her face. “Let me get through one thing at a time.”
“No way to live your life if you have a kid.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the only way I know how to do it.”
The cabin, an hour and a half away from any civilization, was a glorified single-wide trailer, flat roofed with a screened-in porch built onto the front, filled with fishing accessories, including a canoe. The whole place smelled of fish and mildew, overlying a lingering scent of burnt cooking oil. Alex turned on the light as they walked into the kitchenette. The counter was cluttered with dishes—clean, at least—and a line of dead ants. Bleh. Alex put their Walmart bags on the linoleum table.
She reached over to crank open a window to get the smell out, but Alex stopped her, pointing to a hole in the screen the size of a quarter.
“We’ll get eaten alive.”
“Well, see if any windows have good screens. I can’t stand the smell.” She looked at him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I’ve smelled worse.” He made his way toward the bathroom, opened the door and jerked his head back. “Okay, maybe not. Christ.” He stepped in, and she heard him running water in the tub, felt the vibration of the water hitting the fiberglass through the floorboards. Then he flushed the toilet and swore more. “I don’t think he uses the tub to bathe,” he muttered. “But I did get a window open in there.”
“God.” She dreaded the bedroom but followed him down the narrow hall.
“It’s the carpet you smell,” he said. “Gets damp, he comes tramping in from fishing. Not pleasant, but not like a dead body or anything.” He turned on the light in the bedroom.
She looked around his shoulder. “You may as well take those condoms back because I am not getting naked in that.”
