Page 83 of Duty and Desire
“How can you care if I don’t care?” he asked, his face sharing genuine curiosity.
“She said ‘hey!’” I screeched.
“Is there a problem here?”
Mo turned, and since he still had his fingers in my jeans, I was pulled around to see a woman standing there wearing a King Soopers apron with a nametag on it that said Rhonda with the word Manager under it.
“Yes, Rhonda, there’s a problem,” I informed her. “She,” I swung a pointed finger to Tammy, “cheated onhim,” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder to Mo, “withhim.” I finished this pointing in the direction of the boyfriend.
Rhonda looked between Mo and the boyfriend, cast her judgment openly through her expression (that’s what I’m talkin’about!) and was looking disbelievingly at Tammy when I carried on.
“Then she just strolled up to him. No! Tous! Right here in the aisle and said, ‘hey.’”
Rhonda’s brows shot up at me and she looked again at Tammy.
“You said, ‘hey?’” Rhonda asked.
“We’d really just like to move along,” the boyfriend shared with Rhonda.
Rhonda again looked between Mo and the boyfriend before she told the boyfriend, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, move along,” I called after them as the boyfriend grabbed the cart, did a tight turn, and hustled down the aisle. “And you get near Mo again,Tammy, I’ll tear your hair out.”
Tammy turned, mouthedfuck youto me…
And then it happened.
Mo was a big guy.
Normally, Mo did not move like Mikhail Baryshnikov and definitely not like Usain Bolt.
But I learned when the man wanted to move, he moved.
I knew this when one second, he was at my back, holding onto my jeans, and the next second, he was five feet down the aisle, in front of Tammy, cutting off her retreat. He was also bent at the waist, hands to his hips, right in her face.
“No,” he growled.
That was it.
Though that word rumbled down the aisle like a rock slide.
Tammy stood with her back to me, completely immobile for a second, then she did a wide side step and practically ran down the aisle.
“Keep ahold a’ that one, sistah,” Rhonda murmured to me. Then called to Mo, “We good, big man?”
“Yup,” he grunted, moseying back to me, again moving cumbersomely, each step powerfully swaying his hips in a masculine cadence that made my mouth water.
What those hips could do between my legs I could not contemplate or I’d have an orgasm in King Soopers.
Right.
It appeared it was high time to take a moment to reflect.
I’d just acted demented in a freaking King Soopers of all places.
I wasn’t fond of cheaters but that wasn’t about Tammy being a cheater.
I’d staked my claim before I even knew she was a cheater.
