“It's so nice to meet you,” I squeak, holding out a slick palm for her to shake. She scoffs and bats it away before pulling me into the warmest hug I've ever experienced.
My throat tightens, but I choose to believe it's because I'm so relieved that she doesn't have to touch my sweaty hand. When I pull away, I meet Cage's gaze, only for my eyes to gravitate toward the box of condoms directly behind him.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I'm never going to recover from this.
After Layla's game, I got a call from Legion informing me that I'd be receiving another drop tonight.
For the past month, Cage has been delivering bodies three to four times a week, and each and every time, he finds a new way to end up in my bed.
Aside from the incident in the barn, I started making him use condoms. And due to his insatiable sex drive, we ran through an entire fifty-count box already.
I've tried to convince myself this past month has been some strange, lucid dream, yet the bruises on my hips and ass have made it impossible to deny.
And each night, after he’d leave, I tried telling myself to keep it strictly professional from there on out, but the twinge in my heart let me know my body heavily disagreed.
So, like any responsible thirty-four-year-old woman, I'm buying more condoms.
Just in case.
An otherwise safe endeavor. Until a presence sidled up next to me, a delicious scent invading my senses before a familiar hand pointed at a specific brand.
“I'd need these.”
My wide eyes slowly processed the glaring XL on the box, then Cage's wide grin right in front of me.
Before I could utter a word, a sweet face had popped up on the other side of him, scolding him for trying to 'woo a lady in such an egregious manner.'
“I didn't know Cage had a new lady friend!” she exclaims warmly, pulling away only to capture my cheeks between her soft hands. “Oh, the beauty of you! Your eyes are quite sexy, you know that? And that bite mark, dear Lord, it must have come from a horrible person. But, dare I say, it makes you look very edgy, my dear.”
My mouth drops.
Cage sighs.
“She's going through a phase of calling women sexy. Yesterday, she told me she wanted to start wearing leather pants again,” Cage explains. Despite his dry tone, his eyes glimmer with amusement.
Winifred releases me to shoot her son a disgruntled look. “That's how I seduced your father, ya know. I was wearing these skintight leather pants and a bright red halter top.” She returns her stare to mine, excitement glittering in her eyes. “The girls never looked better, let me tell ya. His father took one look and had me bent over—”
“Ma,” Cage intervenes sternly.
She rolls her eyes and then winks at me, a devious grin curling her red lips. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I'll finish the story another time. He gets sensitive when I talk about my sex life in front of him.”
A valid reaction, only I don't voice that. Instead, I return her smile, albeit nervously.
“Yeah, I'd, uh, love to hear it,” I mumble.
“Great!” she shouts, startling a customer at the end of the aisle. I bite back a grin when the young blonde woman gives us a dumbstruck expression. Admittedly, it's hilarious, and a laugh bursts free.
Winifred doesn't even notice.
“Come over for dinner tomorrow night, and I'll tell you all the stories. I used to be a groupie back in the day. And let me just say that wannabe rock stars are better in the sack than successful ones. Once they get rich, they feel like they don’t have anyone to impress.” She waves her hand airily.
“Ma—”
“Anyway, can you make it? I make the best peach cobbler.”
Her stare is full of so much hope, it's literally impossible to say no. I flick a glance at Cage, finding a dark and almost taunting expression. He wants me to answer, which only sends my heart rate escalating to dangerous levels.
He's obviously not feeling inclined to give me an out, and I'm unsure if it's because he's enjoying watching me struggle or because he actually wants me to come.
Either way, he's a dick.
“Y-yeah, of course. I don't have plans.”
“Great!” she bellows a second time and, once again, scares the same young girl, who has since wandered closer. She jumps, drops a box as a result, and scurries to pick it up, her cheeks now bright red.
Then, the frazzled customer tosses Winifred a bewildered glance, frantically tucking flyaway blonde strands behind her ear, and hurries off before she suffers from a heart attack at an age far too young.
“Cage would love to come pick you up,” she volunteers, not even bothering to check with him first. She turns to him. “Bring her over at six. And pick us up some of that good shit I like.”