I turn back to the pharmacist and lean into the counter again. “What would happen if he’d been taking, say, two pills a day instead of one of this medication?”
He turns back to the computer and checks the details of the medication again, his eyes going wide—almost comically so—as he turns back like a robot to look at my father.
“Well…um…considering it’s a pretty strong blood pressure medication…” He clears his throat. “He certainly wouldn’t be functioning too well. Would possibly even be dead.”
“What?” I nearly shout, the panic making my throat constrict for a second before my dad smacks me so hard in the stomach, I feel a little queasy.
“Jesus, Ry. I’m right here and alive. Woo-ooo-woo-ooo! I can make the noise, but I’m not a ghost. Obviously, I didn’t take the pills.”
As annoyingly cavalier as he sounds, I have to admit he’s right. He’s not exactly dressed as the corpse bride while sitting next to me on his scooter. In fact, I haven’t noticed any significant changes in his health or personality at all.
“All right,” I agree begrudgingly. “But when we get home, we have to get to the bottom of what caused this mix-up because there could be serious consequences if we don’t.”
“Yeah, yeah, son. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Let’s go look for…some steaks. We can grill out sometime in the next couple nights.”
“Steaks?” Why is he talking about steaks right now?
“Yeah, steaks. You know, the red meat that comes from cows. Some people put it in a marinade.”
I sigh and then turn back to the pharmacist one last time. “Thanks for your help.”
He nods, grinning. “Of course, sir. If you need anything else or have any more questions, I’ll be here until seven tonight.”
“Seven?” I nearly yell again, whipping my head back to my father. “I thought you said they were closing soon.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugs innocently. “What do I know? I thought I was out of pills.”
I let my head loll back on my shoulders, the amount of pent-up frustration my dad has been able to cause in less than a week locking me up so bad I feel like my muscles might fuse together.
“Sal? Sal Miller? Is that you?” a female voice calls, forcing me to open my eyes and turn around as my dad fires up the old engine on the scooter again and bumps me on his departure for the third time today.
I’m going to end up with fewer toes than I started with before I leave this fucking Winn-Dixie.
“Stella!” my dad yells, spurring the laughter of a female that gets my attention in a much bigger way than I’d like to admit. A female I haven’t spoken to for a couple days but have unwittingly fantasized about more times than I can count.
Carly Page.
My dad scooters up to them like a madman, skidding to a stop just next to Carly’s mom, making both of their faces break out into huge smiles.
Carly laughs again as my dad takes her hand in his and pulls it to his lips.
I roll my eyes a little but walk over to the grouping, nonetheless.
Though, I hate just how much I notice the delectable way her long, svelte legs and firm ass look in those tight-as-hell jeans she’s currently wearing.
Fucking hell. Get it together.
Carly’s blue eyes flit up to mine, catching slightly on the way I’m trying my best not to look at her. Swallowing hard, I finally get control over my hormones and pull my lips up into a friendly grin.
“Hi,” I greet, and her lips curve into a little smile that makes the tiniest of dimples form in her right cheek. It’s painfully adorable.
“Hey there.”
“Oh my goodness,” Stella coos, reaching up from her scooter chair, somehow grabbing my cheeks and squeezing. “Aren’t you a cutie?” She turns to my father and repeats, “Sal, he’s such a cutie!”
Sal winks. “He’s got my genes, Stell.”
I’m bent over so much, I’m not sure how she got to my face in the first place, but I can’t go anywhere until she releases me. Finally, she slaps my cheek one final time, agreeing, “He certainly does.”
“How wild,” Carly comments casually, laughing at the cute little reunion between our parents. “I can’t believe we ran into our neighbors five miles from Sunny Creek.”
Sal and Stella laugh, a little weirdly for my taste, and my eyes narrow. The statistics of a run-in like this aren’t great, but they aren’t impossible either.
Though, I don’t have enough evidence to accuse anyone of anything and don’t know exactly what I’d be accusing them of, at that.
Being party to some huge pill scheme by my father?
Even with Carly’s taxi-stealing history, it seems unlikely. I shake my head to clear it, and unfortunately, my ears start functioning again at a very strange time.
“Nice melons, by the way. They look ripe,” Sal says to Stella, a bounce in his voice.