Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 80

Chapter 80: Grocery Store

"Son of a bitch."

My whisper is like a bomb in the ensuing silence. Penelope leans over to read the text, frowning.

"I don’t get it. What’s food poisoning?"

"Mike." Turning off my phone, I toss it across the coffee table with a shudder, as if the device is somehow tainted by whoever’s messaging me. "I drove him home the other night. The same night the panther shifter appeared to warn me to be careful."

"Right. That guy. McHandsy."

My lips twitch, amused despite my anxiety. "Yes. McHandsy."

"So, what happened?"

"Didn’t show up to work. Turned out he had food poisoning." I motion toward my phone. "Maybe it’s not food poisoning."

"Or maybe it is."

I shrug.

"If it really was food poisoning, it’s like they’re trying to tell you they’re watching you, even at work."

"Yep." Popping the last sound, I rub at my temple. "Or it’s not food poisoning, and they’re telling me they can get to anyone around me."

Penelope groans. "Why can’t you catch a break?"

"I had a break." My lips twist into a wry smile. "For, like, two weeks."

"Point taken." She nods, then suddenly jerks upright. "No, you’re wrong."

I arch an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "About?"

"The weirdo in the grocery store." Her aquamarine eyes gleam.

Meanwhile, I’m left frowning in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She huffs impatiently. "We went to the grocery store together last week, remember? You ran into the same guy like, four times in different aisles."

A vague memory surfaces—tall, kind of nerdy, wearing a loose cotton t-shirt and basketball shorts. Was he wearing glasses? Maybe he was. I can’t remember, really. I shake my head. "How does that even fit with all the strange shit surrounding me lately?"

"It was weird," Penelope grumbles, crossing her arms.

"That’s just normal-weird. It happens sometimes. He was probably trying to hit on you." Some people do that, trying to awkwardly flirt with Penelope at the most random places.

Penelope’s face scrunches up in thought. After a moment, she shakes her head emphatically. "No, he barely even spoke to me. He only had eyes for you." She pauses, then adds reluctantly, "Though maybe he was just hoping to pick you up from a grocery store."

We exchange glances, and I can’t help but snort. "Ah yes, the classic pickup spot—between the cereal aisle and frozen foods."

"Hey, it’s a step up from bars," Penelope quips, a weak smile tugging at her lips. "Though, that would make me go broke. No, they need to stick with picking up girls at bars. That pays my bills."

"A step up?" I counter, grateful for the momentary levity. "I think you just proved it’s somehow creepier than slutting it up at your local bar. You just put it on the same level as murder."

We share a laugh, but it’s tinged with an undercurrent of unease. The brief moment of humor is already done.

* * *

Penelope reluctantly leaves for work—I had to shove her out the door—but eventually, my apartment is empty again. Except for Princess Paws, who’s recovered her energy level and batting a plastic rolling toy across the floor. It jingles as it goes, thanks to the silver bell inside.

Every move she makes is an answering jingle.

Letting her do her thing, I turn on the TV, turning to the news out of habit. But it’s all weather and basic news stories. Nothing interesting.

The jingling of Princess Paws’ toy fades into background noise as I stare at the TV, my mind wandering. My stomach growls.

Food is good. I should eat. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The kitten ignores me, far more interested in her jingly toy than my culinary crisis. She has plenty of food.

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