The McClane Apocalypse Book Five by Kate Morris Page B

I don’t know if I’d put it that way,
Sam,” Simon tries to correct her.
    Paige, of course, jumps in, “Yes, he
did!”
    “Beanpole doesn’t like me too well,”
Cory says with a cocky smirk to
his friend, Jackie. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
    To prove his point, Paige sneers over her
shoulder at them. Simon doesn’t really like it when Cory calls his
sister a beanpole. In Cory’s defense, Simon’s heard Paige call him
far worse. They clearly don’t like each other, which makes it
difficult for him. He’d definitely called that one wrong. He’d
thought many times that those two would get along and that he
couldn’t wait for Cory to come home and meet her. He always assumed
they’d be fast friends.
    “Cory, don’t call her that,” Simon tells
him
    “Sorry, bro,” Cory says, although he doesn’t
say it with any truly genuine feeling. “It’s true, though. She
hates my guts!”
    “And don’t forget it, either,” Paige says
without turning around.
    “Ok, you two,” Sam scolds.
    “Let it go already, beanpole,” Cory remarks
with sarcasm.
    “You threatened to kill me!” she hisses
angrily.
    “Oh, my!” Jackie
remarks with unconcealed surprise.
    “Minor misunderstanding,” Cory antagonizes
with a nonchalant shrug and waves his hand, dismissing the
charge.
    “Misunderstanding my ass! You tried to kill
me,” Paige continues her argument.
    Luckily Jackie’s son has skipped ahead and is
running and chasing Cory’s dog. The kids at the farm finally named
her Shadow. It was better than Damn Dog, which is what Cory had
confided to Simon was her real name. She sleeps most nights out in
their cabin.
    “What ass?” Cory asks. “You don’t have an
ass, ya’ skinny beanpole.”
    “Cory,” Simon warns. He hardly means it,
though. Policing these two could be a full-time job if he wanted
it, which he does not.
    “Well, she doesn’t,” Cory remarks on a
smart-aleck smirk.
    Great, now Simon is looking at his own
sister’s butt. Gross. He groans. Her butt is narrow and lean just like the rest of her.
His sister is built like a lithe gazelle, all long limbs and sleek muscle tone. Her body is
completely different from Sam’s. She is short and curvy and soft.
Everything about her is petite, including her delicate bone
structure and tiny face.
    He has tuned out the usual jabbing by his sister and Cory
and is instead staring at Sam in front of him. Her black ponytail
swishes back and forth in time with her hips. She’s still in her
beige riding pants from their morning patrol at the farm. He wishes
she wouldn’t wear those when they come to town. They are way too
snug and outline her every curve. Luckily her t-shirt is too big on
her and is baggy and shapeless. He believes that her shirt used to
belong to her older brother. It has the name of some church youth
group she’d mentioned to him once. She has a few of her brother’s
shirts that she likes to wear to keep her dead family fresher in
her memory. He knows what lies under that shirt that is too big.
They’ve been swimming in the lake at the farm quite a few times
over the last four years. He’d walked in on her when she was
changing. She’d been pressed up against him in the hayloft when
they’d slept there after the Target group’s attack on the farm. He knows what hides under
there, and the image of her burns behind his closed eyelids at
night when he crashes at the end of the day.
    Sam glances over her shoulder at him and
smiles, rolls her bright blue eyes and turns back. He doesn’t
return it but scowls instead. He knows she is only smiling
conspiratorially at him over the two combatants in their group, but
he can’t even manage a grin. His thoughts about her have turned
lewd and inappropriate on every level. He can’t afford to have
these thoughts about her. It’s not right.
    They arrive at the clinic where Cory
introduces Jackie to Reagan and Doc. She is amiable and sweet.
She’s also incredibly grateful to
have been invited