Page 5 of Oh, Hell No

“That’s a lovely name,” he told me.

“Thank you,” I replied.

My mom hadn’t been an alcoholic yet when she named me.

Before I blurted something stupid like that out, I nodded my head toward the paint supplies. “This way.” I began walking, not allowing myself more time to gawk at Oz.

I liked that name. It fit him. Just like his jeans.

“So, uh, are you an artist?” I asked so there wasn’t an awkward silence.

That deep chuckle made me shiver. I wished I could record it and keep it to replay over and over.

“Not exactly. I’m helping my friend with a project for his son’s bedroom. I have more creative talent than he does, so I said I’d get the art supplies we needed.”

He had a friend with a kid. He was going to paint something for him. I was so close to that swoon I had been worried about. I needed to slap myself. Snap out of this.

“Sounds like a lucky little boy,” I replied.

“You have no idea.”

Interesting response.

“They have some of everything here, don’t they?” he asked, sounding impressed, as we passed the aisle with beads of all kinds.

“Yep. Well, except snacks. I mean, there is the candy, but theyneed drinks and hot dogs maybe or pizza. Kind of like Sam’s Club.”

I glanced up at him to see he was studying me like I was an oddity that confused him. My rambling tended to do that to people. It was a nervous habit I had adopted as a child. When my mother’s temper sparked, I’d use it to help distract her until I could get my brother safely away from her. It hadn’t always worked, but it had sometimes.

“Hot dogs?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes. But the good kind. They’re delicious. Oh, and Sam’s Club also has that pizza pretzel that is fantastic.”

“I’m intrigued now. What is a pizza pretzel?”

I grinned. “Exactly what it sounds like. The dough is shaped like a pretzel, and it has lots of gooey cheese and a couple of pepperonis on top. You get a cup of sauce to dip it in.”

The corner of his mouth tugged, but he didn’t actually smile, nor did he respond. Luckily, we had arrived at the paint supplies so I could stop talking about food as if all I did was eat. I did enjoy eating.

Perry and I had gone without food for days, growing up. I’d give him what little we did have, and often, I’d go without for longer. A couple of times, I had blacked out because of it, but we had survived. Perry was a successful CEO of a start-up software company, and I was a teacher. Mom had said we wouldn’t amount to anything, but she’d been wrong. I imagined she was rolling around in her grave at my brother’s success.

“Here it is,” I announced, although I was sure he could see all the paint supplies and didn’t need me to point out the obvious.

He nodded his head, and I noticed a cold expression in his eyes this time as he shifted his focus from me to look at the aisle I had brought him to.

“Thank you, Winslet,” he said in a businesslike tone that didn’t fit our interaction in the least.

The glimpse of his tongue ring was the last thing I saw of his face before he walked around me.

“Uh, yeah, um, you’re welcome,” I replied.

He continued on, not looking back, and I waited, not sure if I should say bye or just go back to the scrapbook aisle. After a moment, I decided this was my cue to leave.

Perhaps he thought I had been flirting? Or was interested in him? He was gorgeous, and I was sure women threw themselves at him. I’d dated a man like that. One who was prettier than me. Would I ever do that again? Oh, hell no. He was safe from me.

Three

Winslet

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