Page 21 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“A police escort, Grant? Really?” Irritation mixes with disbelief.
“Now that you’re a resident of Sunnyville, I’m at your service. Here to protect and to serve.” He flashes a grin that tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing and plans to make me pay for it.
And pay for it I do. With lights and sirens. Parading me the long way through town until we pull into the CVS parking lot.
His cruiser parks beside me, and I have every intention of running inside and buying some damn tampons I don’t currently need just to get him off my back. So, I’m completely mortified when he climbs out of his car as I get out of mine.
“What are you doing?” I ask, eyes flicking toward the random people who are staring at the flashing lights and the police officer standing in front of me.
“Let’s go.”
I stiffen when he places a hand on the small of my back and starts ushering me closer to the entrance. He nods and murmurs a few hellos to people who address him by name, all the while I’m trying to figure how far we’re going to carry on this charade. He’s obviously trying to prove a point while at the same time, willing to make my life miserable in retaliation for my rudeness the other night.
When we enter the store, I immediately begin to scan the directory signs above the aisles to see where the feminine hygiene products are located. Anything so I can put distance between myself and him and this asinine predicament.
“Not so fast. Where are you going?” he asks as he grabs my bicep, keeping me in place.
“To find what I need.”
“No worries. I have you covered. It’s an emergency after all,” he says, leading me to the front of the store.
“What are you—”
“Shh. It’s under control.” He points to his badge and smiles.
“No. It’s okay. I can find them on my own—”
“Excuse me, where are the tampons?” Grant asks the service clerk at the front of the store. Some teenage boys waiting in line snicker, and the young clerk’s face immediately turns bright red as he stutters a response. “Better yet, we’re in an emergency situation here. A ninety mile an hour type of emergency. Can you get on the PA and ask one of your associates to bring up a box for us so this young lady doesn’t have to search them out.”
Oh. My. God. Is he seriously going to do this?
Yes, he is.
That irritation I was hoping for just hit full force.
“I can get them myself,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Oh, no need to. He’s got it under control.”
He lifts his chin to the cashier, who looks less than thrilled to be asked to do this. “Go on,” he urges the clerk.
“Can I get some assistance to the front please?” the clerk asks, his teenage voice cracking on the overhead speakers. “I need a box of tampons brought up.”
“Tell them it’s an emergency,” Grant says as the kid looks over to me and then down to my pelvis before realizing what he’s doing and snapping his head up, more flustered than ever.
“It’s an emergency.” His voice booms over the PA system and draws the eyes of some of the customers waiting at the photo counter.
“Thank you.” Grant flashes a huge grin his way. “Oh, wait. What brand do you like, Emerson?”
“You’re joking, right?” I sputter.
“Only if you’re joking.” He lifts his eyebrows as he throws down the gauntlet to see if I’m going to come clean or keep lying. The problem is that I think if I don’t continue, he might really haul me off to jail to prove a point. “I don’t think generic will do for such a dire situation. Brand?”
“Tampax,” I say defiantly.
“Tampax,” he relays to the clerk, whose cheeks are burning brighter with each second that passes. When the clerk continues to stare at Grant as if he’s crazy, which I’m beginning to think he is, Grant points to the phone in his hand. “Go on. Let them know so they don’t bring the wrong one and then we have to start this whole process all over again.”
The clerk goes to protest and then realizes that it’s in his best interest to relay the message. “To the associate in the, er, woman’s aisle . . . please make it Tampax.”
