Protecting Mandy (McCallister Military Brothers Book 1) by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

11

Chance plucked the economy sized box of condoms off the pharmacy shelf and tossed it in the handle basket. It landed on top of the deodorant and body wash. Every bachelor’s staples.

Days had gone by since he showed up at Mandy’s house to cook her breakfast and had a sex-a-thon instead. Since then, they’d been flipping back and forth between her house and his. Thankfully, Pepper had a lot of late shifts at Lunar Brewery and Chance and Mandy took advantage of having the place mostly to themselves. Sometimes they fucked—a lot of the time—but sometimes they just curled together, on the bed or the couch, and talked about everything, future and past. Chance taught Mandy his recipe for cheesy grits. Mandy showed Chance a house on Zillow, not quite her dream house, but something close.

“Three bedrooms,” he said. “Does that mean—”

“I hope?” She pointed at a tree in the front yard. “A tire swing right there, and maybe a slide?”

He found himself smiling in the pharmacy aisle. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but…two kids, he thought, with his hair and her smile. That would be fine with him. Perfect, even.

Spying the digital clock above the pharmacy counter, he cursed. He only had a few minutes left on his lunch break and he still hadn’t picked up any food. Hating to leave Mandy alone for any period of time—both due to his inability to keep his hands off her and due to concerns about Walter returning—he decided to grab something quick and eat it in the garage.

The condoms shifted in his basket and he hesitated. Should he grab another box? The rate they were going, he should invest in the rubber supplier.

“Chance McCallister,” a stern female voice barked.

He snapped his gaze from the condom display to a tall woman with styled, wavy gray hair. She’d somehow snuck up on him and was standing beside him. Despite the ninety-two-degree temperature outside, she wore gray slacks—without a single wrinkle—and a pink cardigan sweater set.

“Mrs. Foster,” Chance said, inwardly cringing. This woman had made his sophomore year hell in high school. She had never approved of him, and no matter how many tests he aced, he’d still ended up barely passing English Literature.

“I was sorry to hear about Ray,” she barked, her mouth pulling down.

Did she disapprove of his father dying or of having to offer Chance her condolences? “Thank you,” he answered, not really caring how she meant it.

“You’ve really turned over a new leaf,” she continued. “I can see it. You finally grew up. Stopped all that fighting nonsense. Learned to put your God-given life to use.”

“Um, thank you.” Chance had no clue how to respond. These statements weren’t really compliments, but he didn’t feel like arguing.

She plunked on a pair of silver-framed glasses and studied him from head to toe. “The Navy did a good job with you. And you’ve come home and found an honest job.”

Like he hadn’t had an honest job before he’d left? He’d never been a thief, or an entitled kid expecting the world to cater to him.

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