Page 32 of Not All Himbos Wear Capes
In its early life, it must have gotten stuck halfway through a plastic 6-pack ring, which forced its shell to grow around the foreign object, giving it a gruesome hourglass shape. I watched in shock as the deformed animal slowly moved across the sand, periodically getting caught on rocks and other debris, thanks to the remaining rings dangling from its body.
I remembered how the hardened layer I’d constructed around my heart suddenly cracked as overwhelmingempathyflooded my system. All I could think about was freeing the turtle from its man-made cage, but my family hadn’t left me with anything I could use. Undeterred, I pounced on the poor animal, ripping and tearing at the unyielding plastic—even using my teeth to try saving it. That was how my family found me.
Sobbing over a fucking turtle.
Even though they were armed to the teeth to draw out their torture, nobody gave me a blade. Instead, they dragged me off the doomed animal, kicking and screaming, while they laughed and left it behind to die.
“I never want to see you crying over anyone or anything ever again. You’ll make our family look weak.”
“Are you all right?” Butch was eyeing me with concern, somehow looking even hotter in performance wear than he had in his tailored suit. I’d driven him back to The Gloucester so he could grab more appropriate clothing for today's outing, since there was no way in hell his massive body would squeeze into anything of mine.
I hadn’t expected him to choose an all-black, form-fitting base layer that hugged every muscle, before topping it off with ‘Please Fuck Me, Daddy’ boots.
He looks like a goddamn supe in that outfit.
As much as I wanted to file away images of evil-villain Butch for my spank bank, I had to admit he looked more heroic than villainous.
Fuck, he’s built just like Captain Masculine.
“Xan?” Butch’s voice cut through my jumbled thoughts, saving me from addressing how that uncanny resemblance made my dick twitch.
Save it for Dr. Ownit’s office, weirdo.
“I’m fine,” I tightly smiled, bringing myself back to the day’s work. “It’s just that this never fails to disappoint me.” I broadly gestured at the trash littering the beach.
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe a good-natured eye roll or an empty platitude, but yet again, Butch proved there was true depth hidden beneath his himbo exterior.
“Yeah,” he nodded, looking almost as angry as he did when he gave Chantal the stink-eye. “It kills me every time I come down here and see all this garbage. Don’t people realize that when you throw something away, it doesn’t just magically disappear?”
Marry me.
I’d never openly talked about my work with anyone before. Kai was nosey enough, and I only told Ownit that my family would disapprove of my job if they knew the specifics. By some miracle, Butch appreciated the natural beauty of this place as much as I did, but I couldn’t help wondering what he spent his time doing down here.
“Do you surf?” I cocked my head, trying to imagine his massive body balanced on a board. This cove was harder to access than the touristy beaches, but the sudden drop-off with nothing but the vast Pacific beyond produced world-class waves, so some braved it.
Despite the pollution.
“Uh, no…” He deliciously blushed for some reason. “I just like to come out here to think sometimes, and… people watch.”
There’s rarely anyone out here but me.
And Captain Masculine.
I gazed out over the water—too choppy for anyone to bother surfing today, although it would have been fun on my new WaveRunner. Of course, with Butch with me, I couldn’t access my warehouse, so we’d have to collect samples on foot today.
But it’s worth it to keep this date going.
A rush of panic shot through me as I suddenly worried Captain Masculine would show up and attack us. Then I remembered I was out of uniform, so we’d just look like a couple of do-gooder normies conducting a two-person beach cleanup.
“Very well,” I rolled my shoulders before digging into my bag for supplies. “The work we’re doing today is a little gross, but it’s for science. We need to collect samples of the microplastics that wash ashore, so I can test whether the device I’m inventing can successfully extract them from the water without hurting living organisms.”
He gaped at me a moment before a wide grin stretched across his face. “That’swhat you’re working on? Sugar, that’s freakin’ cool.”
I laughed and handed him some rubber gloves and a gold panning tray. “We really need to work on your language, sweetheart. If I can’t get you swearing like a trucker, I’ll feel like a fucking failure.”
Butch chuckled as he dutifully put his gloves on and followed me to the shoreline. “It’s just how I was raised. I was always told my public image was the most valuable thing about me. If I tarnish that, I lose everything.”
Jesus.
