“Kimberly Aikens,” she squeaked. “And you are so drop dead.” She sighed with teenage hormones and obvious pleasure.
“So are you,” he said, chuckling as the bag boy sliced him a glare and Emily frowned back at him with disapproval. “Goodbye, Kimmy.”
“Goodbye,” she breathed out wistfully. “And please be sure to come back soon.”
He lifted his hand in farewell as Emily shot him another disgruntled glance.
“Stop flirting with the check-out girls,” she hissed. “It’s disgraceful.”
“You won’t flirt with me.” He grinned. “It’s an ego boost.”
“You are so wrong,” she snapped out. “And I want that receipt.”
“Forget it.”
“Now.”
He paused by the Trailblazer. “It will cost you,” he murmured as he pulled her keys from his jeans pocket and smiled down at her in satisfaction. “Are you sure you want to pay?”
“You’re fired!” she snapped.
Kell pushed the unlatch button and glanced at the bag boy as he began loading the back. He leaned down, watching her eyes as he let his lips touch her ear.
“Coward,” he breathed softly against her ear.
Emily jerked back, staring at him as her teeth ground together in obvious annoyance. She was working her way toward a full-fledged temper tantrum that would beat the hell out of the helplessness he saw in her earlier. She was like a caged bird. The bars were made of love, guilt, and responsibility. She felt responsible for her mother leaving, for her death, and for her father’s worry.
There was a woman inside her, filled with strength and life, clawing her way toward freedom with no idea which direction to take.
“I’m not a coward,” she choked out.
“Prove it, Emily,” he dared her as his head lifted and he moved her back from the Trailblazer enough to allow her to lift herself to the seat. “Prove it to both of us.”
He closed the door before she could argue and moved to where the carry-out boy had finished loading the groceries. He was a kid in a man’s body, all arms and legs and unfamiliar muscles growing in his lanky body. Hazel eyes glared at Kell in dislike as a surprisingly firm mouth flattened in anger.
“Pouting won’t get you what you want,” he told the boy, aching at the realization that when he had been this kid’s age he had already lost a wife and child. He had already known the horror of being disowned, only to face his parents’ offer to reinstate him in the family now that the trash he had married had been taken care of.
“What do you mean?” the youth snapped.
Kell stared down at him, silently showing his strength in the look in his eyes, on his face. The boy’s gaze jumped to the side.
“Be a man, son,” he growled. “If you don’t know how, then learn how. And don’t blame your girlfriend for being impressed. I’m a man, not a kid.”
The boy glared back, but Kell could see the kid’s mind turning, and sometimes that was all it took.
“That’s your tip for the day,” he informed him. “Because you beat the cart over every speed bump on the way over here. Think about it. Better yet, practice it.”
He moved around the Trailblazer then, opened the driver’s door, and stepped into the vehicle.
“You didn’t check for a bomb,” were the first words out of her mouth. “If I’m in danger, then how do you know Fuentes didn’t rig the Trailblazer and it’s going to blow up the minute you start the engine?”
He laid his arms over the steering wheel and stared back at her in disbelief.
“You watch too much television or read too many books. I haven’t decided which yet.”
She sniffed disdainfully. “My father was a Navy SEAL. Or did you forget?”
“It would be damned hard to forget that one,” he assured her, smiling as he turned the key and the only thing that ignited was the motor.