Bear Claw One-Stop Shop is the nearest convenience store, a fifty-two mile drive on windy and icy roads. We chained the tires of Omega’s Range Rover before leaving the lake house, and we safely reached Bear Claw. Only a Jeep in the parking lot. Most likely the storeowner.

I make a quick choice and agree to let Maximoff join me inside. The tiny, outdated store has no security cameras, and half the shelves are bare. We’ll be lucky if they even have a pregnancy test. We both notice the old gray-haired man sleeping at the cash register.

While we peruse the aisles, Maximoff’s shoulders stay tense and neck stiff. Always a knight prepared for a looming war.

He checks a bottom shelf, finding jugs of water. “Bet you didn’t think you’d be doing this today.”

“Technically, I never thought I’d be doing this any day.” I grab a pair of aviator sunglasses off a rack and slip them on, price tag hanging off the rim.

Maximoff glances back at me, and he almost lets himself check me out, almost. His gaze stops at my chest, and then he unzips his Patagonia jacket, hot, and rounds the corner with me.

Aisle number two carries mostly junk food: beef jerky, Pringles, and popcorn. Then random fruit. Oranges, bananas—I take a red apple.

And I place a hand on his chest. Stopping him mid-aisle because he’s been too quiet. Even the whole ride here. I lift the aviators to my head, pushing my hair back. “The talk with your dad went that badly?” I finally ask.

“My dad kept twisting his wedding ring.” He purposefully buries his emotion, his face blank. “That means—”

“I know what that means,” I say, even if the fact isn’t public knowledge. I spent three years around Lily and Lo, and anytime Lo was in a bad place with his addiction, he’d twist his ring.

Maximoff blinks a few times, his guard descending. Letting some kind of emotion break through.

My hand rises to the back of his neck, and he suddenly clasps my shoulders, his muscular arms wrapping around them. At the same time, we both step into a hug. Chest against chest. I stroke the back of his neck, and he holds us together in a strong embrace.

I feel his heart thud hard and fast.

Against his ear, I whisper, “I’m sorry.” I know how much he loves his parents, and not being able to fix this must be killing him.

His chest collapses in a deeper breath, and we tilt our heads back, our eyes skimming each other. I’d say I lean in first, but he’d tell you the exact opposite.

I kiss him tenderly like I’m the saint, and go figure, he full-bodies the kiss like he’s the sinner. Meaning, he pulls our builds even closer together while our mouths meld deeper.

Damn.

I step him towards the back of the store, and he wrestles for the lead and spins me into a shelf—shit. My shoulder blades knock into a tower of Moon Pies, and they start falling onto the linoleum floor.

We tear apart, and I push the Moon Pie box back on the shelf while Maximoff picks up the fallen packages.

I eye the old man at the cash register. He lets out a long snore. Not waking. Even if he did, I doubt he’s in touch with celebrity news.

I peel the sticker off the red apple, and Maximoff fixes his disheveled hair. He also keeps licking his lips, like he still feels me on them.

Our eyes meet, and he asks, “Did my mom talk to you?”

I didn’t expect that divergence. “I just kissed the fuck out of you, and now you’re thinking about your mom?”

He feigns confusion. “Let me get in my time machine. Look at that, I just kissed the fuck out of you. Not the other way around.”

I roll my eyes and then smile. “And I’m a hundred-percent positive you dreamed of my tongue in your mouth at sixteen.” I toss my apple in my hand. “That’s a true fact.”

Right on cue, he gives me two middle fingers, and his eyes drift to my mouth.

I whistle. “And he wants me to kiss him again.”

Maximoff glances at the storeowner. Dead asleep. Then me. “Seriously, Farrow, did my mom talk to you?”

“No,” I say easily. “I didn’t expect her to.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

I pause, apple near my mouth. “It has more to do with me than you. When I was on her security detail, I built a lot of trust between me and your parents. By lying to them about you, I basically obliterated all of that. They’ll patch things up with you because you’re their son, but I expect a four-month cold shoulder, at least.”

He nods, tensed again.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my shit to deal with.” I bite into the apple, and he looks at me like I’ve just stolen half the store—which, to be honest, contains nothing valuable to steal.

“What are you doing?” he asks and checks on the sleeping old man again.

Maximoff. “Eating.” I extend the apple to him. Just to piss him off. “Want a bite?” I walk nearer, and he makes a point to cross his arms, biceps bulging.

“You’re stealing.”

“And you’re so pure.” I take a larger bite.

He growls out his irritation, but his lips start to slowly rise. “Farrow.”

“I’m going to pay for it. Relax. Relax.” I widen my eyes and then lower my aviators.

He exhales a bigger breath, and we peruse the next aisle. Some stocked over-the-counter medications.

I squat and shift boxes of cold medicine. I give him my half-bitten apple so I can reach further back. I feel him fixating on the movement of my hands. I smile and find only one pregnancy kit.

I flash him the box. “I’ll check out with cash and rip up the receipt.”

He looks surprised that I have a game plan.

I rise. “I’m still your bodyguard, wolf scout. And I’m still taller too.”

He laughs shortly and backs up from me. “By one fucking inch.” He lets his gaze drop all the way down my body.