Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) Read Free Page B

that isn’t the case. He can’t be more than five years younger than me—his nametag is that special color that indicates he’s old enough to sell tobacco products.
    I smile back a little thinly.
    “Sure did, thanks,” I reply, sliding my card through and keying in my PIN so all I have to do is wait for him to finish.  
    He gives me a quick smile out of politeness and then proceeds to ring everything through, asking if plastic is fine.
    I thought about correcting him and asking for paper just to be difficult after the ma’am comment, when I catch sight of the flyer again.
    “It’s fine. Can I see that flyer behind you, please?”
    Turning slightly, he grabs the flyer, handing it over before continuing to scan and load my things.
    Scanning the page, I take in the information.
    The details I hadn’t been able to read before let me know adoption day is Saturday and Sunday morning from 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. If an adoption is made during those times, they’ll waive the fee for spaying or neutering and discount the price on the microchips they put in to track your pet. The puppy in question is indeed a husky; one named Andy. He’s three months old and one of the animals up for adoption this weekend.
    I was so intently focused on the flyer, ideas floating through my head, that I forgot where I was.
    It took the cashier clearing his throat and repeating that damn word to get my attention.
    “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?” he asks, more out of manners than actual concern.
    Holding out my receipt, he looks at me the same way one might look at a bug. With curiosity, but no real desire to get closer and investigate further.
    I can’t take offense.
    Luckily, with Dad’s business, I never had to work in the glamorous world of sales but I heard enough horror stories from people to last a lifetime.
    My lips tip up slightly.
    “Sorry about that. I’m fine, thank you.”
    Grabbing my receipt with my left hand, I hold out the flyer with my right.
    He waves his hands at it.
    “You can keep that, I’ve got a whole stack back here,” he says, moving his arm to indicate where they are.
    My eyes follow the movements of his arm but I see nothing.
    I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth or wants the weirdo staring at flyers to move so he can continue ringing people through.
    Shrugging, I stuff the flyer in my bag, put both hands on my cart and start to push out towards the doors that lead me to my car before giving a quick wave of thanks.
    “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
    Ugh.
    I was buying some anti-aging cream the next time I hit Target.
    A vat of it.
    Strolling out to my car, I squint when the sun hits my eyes and I’m cursing at myself, yet again, for forgetting my sunglasses in the car.
    Once I have all the groceries in the trunk and the cart in its corral, I slide in the front seat, do my thing of shimmying around to get comfy, get my sunglasses situated, and head for home.
     
    *              *              *
     
    I live in an older, one-bedroom house on the West side of town—about ten minutes from the store, fifteen from the main hub-bub of town, and twenty to twenty-five from my parents’ place.
    I like that their house isn’t leaps and bounds away, but that it’s also not next door. Most of the time (and when I say most I mean about half) they at least give me a shout if they’re heading over, but it isn’t unheard of for any of my family to pop by unannounced.
    My brother, Robby, and his wife, Maddy, live smack dab in the middle of town, with Maddy’s daycare run out of their house. She thought living there would make her more centrally located, therefore a better choice for parents. Robby didn’t give a shit just as long as Maddy was happy and stopped busting his balls to move there—his words. It also helps me because if Mom or Dad are out and about, they usually hit their place before mine. Maddy and Robby usually give me a heads up. That is, unless I let something slip;