May Contain Wine (SWAT Generation 2.0 5)

“Why?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

I shrugged and watched as she looped it around her waist, wincing when she found it way too small.

“Yeah, I’m not a small anymore,” she said.

I pulled a medium off the rack and handed it to her.

She grinned when she saw that it fit.

“I haven’t been able to find one like these lately,” she said. “Cavendar’s Western Wear is always sold out of my size.”

I took it from her and started walking again, stopping to point out this and that as we walked.

“I like this.” I pointed at the painting of a cow.

“I like that.” She pointed at a large longhorn cow skull that was bedazzled with gems. “How much is it?”

I winced when I saw the price.

“It’s five hundred and fifty dollars,” I said. “Holy balls.”

She gagged. “Yeah, I think not.”

I thought not, too. It was cute, but not that cute.

We kept moving until we saw the entire store.

“We should probably go to the bathroom,” I said. “You go on ahead. I’ll run and go, too. Then meet you out at the car.”

We split up after that, her going to the ladies’ bathroom, and me going to the men’s room.

When I got out, I stopped by and picked up her favorite candy, then headed to the checkout. There I ended up getting some cashews, a lighter in the shape of a cow, and a bag of corn nuts.

When I walked out, I had a bag full of shit I didn’t need.

When I got to the car, I didn’t see Calloway, so I got in and moved it to the gas pump closest to the parking spot I’d previously been in, enabling me to see when she came out.

Only, it took her another fifteen minutes.

And when she emerged, it was with a man my age at her side.

I gritted my teeth and stopped myself from walking up to her and yanking her into my side—for some reason, I just knew that would piss her off.

Instead, I leaned casually up against the hood of her car and waited patiently for her to get done talking.

When she pulled out her phone and started to type something into it, I’d had enough.

Coming off of the car with a jerk, I stalked across the parking lot and didn’t stop until I was at her side.

“You ready?” I rumbled quietly. “I thought you needed to get going to your interview?”

She jerked at my voice, turning her face up and looking at me guiltily.

“Oh, sorry, Louie,” she said softly, almost absentmindedly. It had to be, otherwise I knew she wouldn’t have used that particular nickname. “I was just talking to Carlin here. He’s an ex-Marine.”

My eyes flicked up to the man, and I realized right then and there that he was full of shit.

The man wasn’t an ex-military anything.

He wasn’t the type.

“Really?” I said softly. “When did you serve?”

The man blinked. “Umm, couple years ago.”

My brows rose. “How long were you in for?”

“A year.” He pursed his lips.

“Really?” I said. “Did you get injured or something?”

I could feel Calloway’s eyes on me as she stared at me with confusion.

“No,” he said. “I… uhhh, no. That’s just how long I was in for.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t just do a year in the Marines,” I said. “Minimum is four years active-duty.”

“Did I say Marines?” He laughed, sounding a little stilted now. “I meant the Navy.”

I rolled my eyes and looked at Calloway.

“You ready?”

She put her phone away, wincing slightly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Nice to meet you, Darren.”

“Carlin,” Not-Darren said, sounding miffed.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Calloway said as she walked away.

I grinned at the man, then turned and followed Calloway to the car.

When she went to the driver’s side, I caught her by the belt loop then guided her to the passenger, causing her to roll her eyes.

“That wasn’t nice,” she said. “You embarrassed him.”

I helped her into her seat, then walked around to the driver’s side before falling in.

“You can go to jail for impersonating a Marine,” I mumbled. “Why were you pulling your phone out?”

“He, uh. Well, he heard me talking, I think. To the men that I’m interviewing. They said that they had to reschedule.” She sighed. “I’m bummed.”

I bet she wasn’t.

I was, though.

The idea of having to take her home sounded like shit.

Then a thought occurred to me.

“We can go to Canton,” I said, reminding her of the trades days event that happened at the beginning of every month. “They have funnel cakes.”

I saw her waver and knew that I would have her with the next thing.

“They have fried cheese corn dogs,” I reminded her.

Once upon a time, we’d go to this craft fair-type thing with our parents. And we’d always get the good shit of funnel cakes, turkey legs, and fried cheese corn dogs.

Honestly, it was the absolute worst shit for a person’s heart, but it tasted so fucking good it should be illegal.