Page 34 of Tossed into the Mob
“The snacks are as important as the movie,” he said.
I agreed, glad for the change of topic. We were early, so we parked and walked to the concession stand.
“I vote nachos.”
“Fries and ice cream so we can dip one in the other.”
I snuck him a quick glance, and he said he’d buy two of each ‘cause he could tell I wasn’t impressed.
“No. I love trying new things.” Treyton was one of those.
When we got back to the car, he grabbed a blanket from the back seat.
“No first-aid kit?” I smirked.
“In the trunk.” He smacked a hand on his brow.“Should I get it?”
His movement sent a wave of his scent crashing over me, and my cock reacted. Oh, no, no. This couldn’t be. I was Treyton’s friend, and I’d ruin that relationship if I grabbed his crotch.
“I can’t believe I forgot to ask you about your arm?”
I waved it around, bending and dipping it. “It’s healed and I have the tiniest scar.” I patted his shoulder, wishing we were in an older-style car with a bench seat and I could slide over to him. I craved his presence, and even being on the other side of the vehicle was too far away.
Perhaps this was a bad idea having us sit in the car together for hours.
Treyton adjusted the radio to the correct frequency and the advertisements blasted out. We agreed to eat the fries and ice cream first so the latter didn’t melt.
“Mmmm. Delicious.”
“Grandpa loves trickling olive oil on vanilla ice cream.”
“I’ll have to try that sometime.”
“He talks about you often, so if you visit him, you can try it.”
That wouldn’t be happening. I adored Grandpa Arnie, but what reason would I have to visit Treyton’s mafia shifter family? I couldn’t see me waltzing into their Sunday-night dinner, saying, “Hi, guys. I wanted to visit the scene of the crime, so can you give me the code for the storage unit?”
I didn’t think so. Besides, we’d never found a way to thank Flint for the apartment. Yes, I’d phoned and sent a letter from Dad and me, but a bottle of wine or a bunch of flowers wasn’t adequate for a million-dollar apartment, but maybe we were even because his guy shot us.
The opening credits rolled, and I sent sideways glances at Treyton. His profile in the flickering light sent goosebumps marching over my skin, and I pulled the blanket up to my chin. He adjusted the sound, but it was too loud, and I turned it down to the original volume.
Treyton pulled out the bag of candy we bought and offered it to me, his fingers brushing over mine as I took some. His touch was still soothing, but now it was accompanied by something else, like a surge. I almost wondered if he had one of those joy buzzers in his palm, but that was silly.
I concentrated on the screen, and Treyton squealed along with me as a zombie appeared through the mist. Zombies taking over cities and turning half the population kept my mind off Treyton with his new scent and calming touch.
When the action slowed and thoughts crept into my head, Treyton filled it, just as Treyton the man had kinda filled my empty spaces.
He shrieked, and I grabbed his hand, thinking he was going to fling himself out the door. Even though he had a big bad wolf inside him, zombies scared him. It was funny and sweet. And he didn’t let go of my hand. He needed me, and I held him tight, not ever wanting to let go.
Was this how it would be from now on? Two friends having a meal and watching a movie together every so often? He hadn’t explained why he had given up his job, but he’d shot at Riggs and his beast fought him, so that was probably distressing.
At intermission, I wanted more snacks.
“I’m full. No more for me.”
I opened the car door but froze as a look of horror appeared on Treyton’s face.
“Oh my god, what?” I gripped the plastic fork that had come with the nachos. Any bad guys had to get through me.
