Page 36 of The Alpha's Protective Mate

I shoot him a suspicious look. “What are you getting at?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he chuckles. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’ve been too busy working. Besides, getting drunk can be quite dangerous. And I’m not fond of alcohol in general.”

“I see. But you like iced tea?”

The way he seems to be holding in his laughter makes me want to hit him over the head with something. “What is so funny?!”

“Nothing!” he insists.

“Liar.”

“They’re coming to set up our pit,” he points out, sufficiently distracting me. Two young men arrive and light up the coal that is already in the pit. They teach us how to keep the coal burning, and then one of them brings over our meat. I’m quite excited by this whole barbecue process.

“I’ve never been to an actual barbecue.” I smile broadly, unable to contain myself. “I’ve seen so many videos. This looks like a lot of fun.” I catch Robert glancing at me, and I ask, “What?”

He smiles—a little softly, it seems to me. Holding out the tongs, he says, “Want to kick-start this?”

Excited like a child on Christmas, I put the first sausages and meat kebabs on the grill. There isn’t a very large surface area, so I can only fit two skewers and a couple of sausages. The drinks arrive in the meantime, and as I take my first sip, my toes curl.

“This is good!” I beam down at the tall glass. It’s both tangy and sweet, and it has a kick to it.

I take another sip, and Robert puts a cautioning hand on mine. “Easy.”

“Why?” I blink. “It’s just iced tea.”

He struggles to say something and then manages, “It would be better to have it with the food, don’t you think?”

I give him a confused look. Why is he acting like this?

“I can always order another one,” I say slowly. “Besides, I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, so I’m starved.”

His face grows red, and he mutters, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You can be so weird,” I grumble, sipping my tea.

I turn the kebabs over, and Robert deals with the sausages. The smell is tantalizing, and when we bite into the meat, my mouth waters.

Some of the marinated pieces are quite spicy, and I’m well into my third glass of tea. I feel light-headed and happy.

“I’m so glad you didn’t kick me out of Portland,” I say cheerfully, watching a chicken thigh sizzle away on the grill. “Can you imagine me working on a farm?” I burst into laughter. “Overalls! I’d have to wear overalls and a straw hat!”

Robert grins. “That makes for a cute picture.”

“It makes for a ridiculous picture!” I smack my hand against his arm, chortling. “Overalls make me look fat. I wore them once. My sister’s. I was twelve, I think. I hit puberty early, you know. Clyde cut all my clothes with scissors. And my father slapped me when I complained.”

The memory doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s almost as if it happened to somebody else.

“There was an event, a wedding or something, I guess. I had nothing to wear, so I stole my sister’s overalls. She was really young then, so they were a tight fit. A very tight fit.”

My smile fades as the memory of being taunted returns to me.

“They were cruel,” I whisper, my laughter long gone. “And—And Clyde and that friend of his, Droga, they cornered me and cut the straps.”

I lower my head, feeling dazed and upset. Why did I think this was a memory worth remembering?

My father had beaten me for embarrassing him, after the boys had had a go at me with their fists during the event.

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