Pinewood Lodge by Odessa Hywell

Author:Odessa Hywell [Hywell, Odessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-06T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

HUNTER

A sure-fire way to leave a store clerk with more questions than answers—buy a massive jar of pickles (Get dill, not the sweet kind—not that brand either; Tessa won’t eat those, they don’t crunch, apparently) and one bottle of lube.

The lube is necessary considering what I plan to do to Simon tonight but the crunchy pickles, because that’s a thing . . . I suppose those are as well if Tessa runs out of her current supply. Though I wouldn’t mind making another impromptu trip to town with Simon, even if I’ll never be able to show my face in this particular store again. I’ll never forget the cashier’s expression as she scanned the two items—a mix of horror and curiosity. It will probably haunt me for life.

Simon and I are going to end up on one of those ‘What’s the weirdest thing a customer has ever bought from you?’ threads on Reddit.

I can see the reply now: Two men [both wearing wedding rings but not matching rings so married but maybe not to each other?] bought a 128 oz jar of Classic Kosher Dill Pickles [the not spears kind—the whole kind!] and a 2.5 oz bottle of Astroglide X Silicone Based Lube. [That’s a popular brand of anal lube, right? Right!?]

Not the highlight of my life, to be sure.

Simon thinks it’s hilarious. He’s barely swallowing a laugh, bumping his shoulder against mine and wiggling his eyebrows as we leave the checkout line with our questionable-at-best purchases. If the clerk wasn’t watching us before, she damn sure is now.

I shake my head and lay my hand on his slim back, pushing him out of the store and urging him across the parking lot to escape the judgmental gaze of anyone who was standing with us, mindful of any stray patches of ice. He’s still laughing, breath foggy in front of him, shoulders shaking, the sound soft but rich in the cold wind. I open the passenger door and he climbs in, pulls the seat belt across his chest and takes the bag from my hands. His face is flushed pink, either from the chill or laughter, maybe a combination of both, and his lips are twitching as he settles.

“You have to admit, it’s kind of funny.” His bright eyes are dancing when he sets the bag between his feet on the floor.

I reach out and tug on a short curl. “I’m pretty sure she’s scarred for life and if not, I am.”

“Are you? Really?” I ignore him but his laughter follows me around the truck. It’s really not funny. Okay. It is. I’m man enough to admit that much, at least. But dammit—pickles, whole pickles, and lube. That clerk is never going to forget us. “It could be worse,” Simon says after I start the truck and back out of our parking spot.

“How? I’m pretty sure she thinks we’re about to film some kinky porn. All we’re missing is a Santa hat at this point,” I say while turning on the heat.

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