more, he shook his head. “I need to concentrate.”
“You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
“I told you more than anyone else knows about me. That’s enough.”
Not really. But she did like being the only one who knew so much about him.
She looked around. “I need to stop at a store and pick up some magazines and face cleanser. That soap will dry out my skin big-time.”
“Soap is soap.”
“No, actually, it’s not. Most soaps are made with animal fats, chemicals and synthetic detergents that rob your skin of the essential oils that keep it soft and smooth. And don’t get me started on the artificial fragrances they put in there.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He shot her a smile. “We can make a quick stop the next time we pass a populated exit.”
“Thank you.” She was already making a mental list of things she needed. Makeup. Hair spray. Chocolate. “Do you have disinfectant and antibiotic cream in here?”
“Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet.” His eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay?”
“I’m thinking of you.”
“Don’t worry about me, babe. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
She tilted her head. “Do you call every woman ‘babe’? Is that just a word you throw out?”
His lips moved for a second without sound and then he said, “Yes. Don’t take it personally.”
“I’ll try not to swoon.” She got up and walked toward the back. “Do you have any books or magazines to read?” She opened a cabinet and her mouth dropped open at a display of knives like she’d never seen. Six knives of various kinds were mounted on a black velvet wall, their ornate leather sheaths beneath.
“Check the drawer by the table,” he said, and she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Be careful of the knives.”
She quickly closed the cabinet door. “I will try to resist playing with them.”
“Not just those. They’re stashed all over the place. I need to be able to put my hand on one no matter where I am.”
“Good to know.” She found the drawer he’d mentioned. A couple of Harley magazines, an issue of Money magazine. Moments after resigning herself to Money, they slowed down. He was taking the exit ramp.
“You have ten minutes,” he said.
“Only ten? Really?”
He spared her a glance. “You want either of those guys catching up to us?”
“Well, no.”
“Then really. Don’t make me come in there and get you.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ve got enough water in the tank for two showers.”
He was scanning the superstore’s parking lot, the rearview monitor, and, she guessed, sensing for the presence of an Otherling. He dropped her off at the front entrance of the brightly lit store then grabbed his cell phone from a holder near his seat. “What’s your cell number?”
She recited it, and he called. “Save that number. If you see or feel anything suspicious, call me. I’ll be there in a flash.”
She raised an eyebrow. “In a flash? You will put clothes on, right?”
Completely serious, he said, “Depends on how scared you are.”
Oh, boy, the thought of a naked Cheveyo racing in to her rescue. She scrambled out before he could remind her how long—or not long—she had. She scouted out what she needed, including basic cosmetics—drugstore brands, yuck . Except, interestingly enough, there was a brand called Petra.
“Too cool,” she said with a smile, choosing that, of course.
She grabbed up chocolate bars, three magazines, and a couple of paperbacks. She kept looking at her watch, eight minutes, nine minutes, waiting in the checkout line. Could she help it if the cashier was taking her ever-loving time?
Finally, at eleven minutes, she checked out. Her phone rang.
“I’m coming!”
But it was Eric’s voice that said, “You are? To DC?”
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” She exited and spotted the RV parked to the left. Cheveyo stepped outside, wearing
“You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
“I told you more than anyone else knows about me. That’s enough.”
Not really. But she did like being the only one who knew so much about him.
She looked around. “I need to stop at a store and pick up some magazines and face cleanser. That soap will dry out my skin big-time.”
“Soap is soap.”
“No, actually, it’s not. Most soaps are made with animal fats, chemicals and synthetic detergents that rob your skin of the essential oils that keep it soft and smooth. And don’t get me started on the artificial fragrances they put in there.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He shot her a smile. “We can make a quick stop the next time we pass a populated exit.”
“Thank you.” She was already making a mental list of things she needed. Makeup. Hair spray. Chocolate. “Do you have disinfectant and antibiotic cream in here?”
“Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet.” His eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay?”
“I’m thinking of you.”
“Don’t worry about me, babe. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
She tilted her head. “Do you call every woman ‘babe’? Is that just a word you throw out?”
His lips moved for a second without sound and then he said, “Yes. Don’t take it personally.”
“I’ll try not to swoon.” She got up and walked toward the back. “Do you have any books or magazines to read?” She opened a cabinet and her mouth dropped open at a display of knives like she’d never seen. Six knives of various kinds were mounted on a black velvet wall, their ornate leather sheaths beneath.
“Check the drawer by the table,” he said, and she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Be careful of the knives.”
She quickly closed the cabinet door. “I will try to resist playing with them.”
“Not just those. They’re stashed all over the place. I need to be able to put my hand on one no matter where I am.”
“Good to know.” She found the drawer he’d mentioned. A couple of Harley magazines, an issue of Money magazine. Moments after resigning herself to Money, they slowed down. He was taking the exit ramp.
“You have ten minutes,” he said.
“Only ten? Really?”
He spared her a glance. “You want either of those guys catching up to us?”
“Well, no.”
“Then really. Don’t make me come in there and get you.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ve got enough water in the tank for two showers.”
He was scanning the superstore’s parking lot, the rearview monitor, and, she guessed, sensing for the presence of an Otherling. He dropped her off at the front entrance of the brightly lit store then grabbed his cell phone from a holder near his seat. “What’s your cell number?”
She recited it, and he called. “Save that number. If you see or feel anything suspicious, call me. I’ll be there in a flash.”
She raised an eyebrow. “In a flash? You will put clothes on, right?”
Completely serious, he said, “Depends on how scared you are.”
Oh, boy, the thought of a naked Cheveyo racing in to her rescue. She scrambled out before he could remind her how long—or not long—she had. She scouted out what she needed, including basic cosmetics—drugstore brands, yuck . Except, interestingly enough, there was a brand called Petra.
“Too cool,” she said with a smile, choosing that, of course.
She grabbed up chocolate bars, three magazines, and a couple of paperbacks. She kept looking at her watch, eight minutes, nine minutes, waiting in the checkout line. Could she help it if the cashier was taking her ever-loving time?
Finally, at eleven minutes, she checked out. Her phone rang.
“I’m coming!”
But it was Eric’s voice that said, “You are? To DC?”
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” She exited and spotted the RV parked to the left. Cheveyo stepped outside, wearing
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