Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MEGHAN

I can not believe the nerve of this guy. Who the fuck does he think he is? He was a complete piece of shit to me the last time I saw him. Then today he just walks right up to me. Does he seriously think I’ll talk to him?

Argh! I want to scream! But that’d probably get me escorted out of the building, and I really need to refill my cupboards.

Hopefully that nosy old bitch will keep him busy with complaints. Then he can scamper over to the cooler section, find some bags of blood (which I’m sure he drinks for dinner), and get the hell out of here.

Might as well get back to my list. No way he’ll track me down after that outburst.

Pulling my cart to a stop, I look around and see I’m in the condiment aisle. Perfect. I need to replenish my mustards. An uncultured child might think that one type is enough, but they’d be wrong. Yellow is great for your classic all-American dishes. Honey mustard is perfect for turning a panini into something fancy. And spicy brown is wonderful in vinaigrettes.

With that thought, and a small pile of mustards in my cart, my hand trails down the shelf until I find the large array of vinegars. Some people are purists, but I’m all about flavor. I have several at home already, but hmmm… This cinnamon pear aged vinegar has my gears turning and my mouth starts watering just thinking about the possibilities. Placing it next to my mustards, I start to think that one new bottle isn’t enough. I should get a second.

When I think, I have a habit of wiggling my toes. Wiggling my toes now, my gaze moves to my feet. My feet, clad in sandals, despite the nearly freezing, nearly November weather. This was meant to be my low-key self-love day, so I dressed accordingly. A wash of dread starts at my bare toes and rolls up my legs. The Greek idiot ex god just saw me. Like this. My footwear is made of worn, brown leather and is what my friends refer to as my Jesus sandals. They expose my toes, each painted a different fall color. And it only gets worse as you go up. I’m wearing a pair of very snug, and very comfortable black leggings. Those aren’t too bad. My sweater is a bit much, though. It’s an oversized cardigan, and it’s tie-dyed. By me, I might add. It’s a flurry of green and purple with the original shade of tan peeking through. It’s glorious, and completely yikes. But the shirt under the cardigan is the real cringer. It’s a white wife beater with “I like big Bundts” screen printed across the chest. Complete with an image of a Bundt cake. After that, who cares about my mass of red curls tossed into an extra messy, messy bun. I look like l walked away from a 21st century Woodstock, and the purple feather earrings just confirm it.

Movement at the end of the aisle catches my attention. Bracing myself for the worst, I turn and see the bane of my existence. And he’s heading towards me.

Quickly, I decide I’m done with the condiments. If he needs to buy something from here, he can buy it without company.

Refusing to make eye contact, I spin my cart around like a contestant on a reality shopping show and escape.

In the brief glance I took, I saw he was just carrying a basket, so he can’t be here for much. He better fill ‘er up fast because I don’t want to spend my whole time here fleeing him.

Deciding distance will make me safer, I dart past several aisles before randomly selecting one. Pulling to a stop halfway down, I take out my phone to consult my list. Checking off my mustards and pineapple, I still have a long way to go.

Okay, deep breath. I will not let Assface ruin my self-love shopping vibe. I close my eyes and force myself to take several deep breaths. Aware that I’m in public, I chant silently, moving my lips but not making a sound.

I do not care what that man thinks of me. I do not care if I’m dressed like a total goober. I do not care if said man is hot-as-fuck. I do not care if his voice sets my libido off like a match soaked in gasoline. I do not care. I do not care. I do not care.

With a final exhale, I open my eyes. And shriek.

My hands fly up to cover my mouth, attempting to trap in the sound.

I’m face-to-face with Ash-hole. And he’s grinning.

“Hey, Banshee. What just happened there?” He gestures at me, as if I wasn’t sure what he was referring to. “Was that a meditation, or some sort of seizure?”

“It was none of your damn business!” I fume. “You’d probably be thrilled if I keeled over, so what do you care.”

I grab hold of my cart so I can push past him, but he stomps his foot down, blocking the front wheel.

I turn my stormy glare on him, a little surprised to see that his grin is gone.

“What?” My hostility is clear in the word.

He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

I roll my eyes.

“I am - " he takes one step towards me. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Knowing that he’s referring to our last encounter, my emotions rise back up as if it just happened. But I won’t let him get the best of me this time. I don’t care what a man thinks of me.

I do my best to sound calm. “You’re right, Ash. You shouldn’t have said those things, but you did.”

His eyes narrow. “You’ve never called me Ash before.”

“Yeah, well, I figured if all the other slut bunnies call you that, I should too.”

He breaks eye contact, and I use the opportunity to push past him.

“Meghan!” he calls after me.

I don’t stop.

“Please - " his voice comes out quieter.

Damnit!

I stop.

I keep my back to him but listen to his footsteps. I hold a deep inhale, releasing the breath when he stops next to me. I want to keep staring forward, but I’ve always tried to face my fears straight on. And for some reason, part of me is afraid of this confrontation. I can’t imagine he’s following me around just to be mean to me again, but the mind isn’t always rational.

Slowly, I turn to him. Mustering all my inner courage, I put my hands on my hips and wipe the nervous expression from my face.

Making eye contact this close, his dark eyes show more emotion than I think he realizes. I can read his worry and hesitation, and it makes me feel a little more at ease. He should apologize to me, but I definitely wasn’t expecting him to. And I don’t know if I should believe whatever’s about to come out of his mouth.

As we stand here, watching each other, a bit of his unruly black hair falls across his face. And I have the absurd urge to reach out and brush it away.

“I just… I need to explain.” He runs a hand over his always-there shadow of a beard. I can hear the scratch of it against his palm. “You were right.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Well, that's a good start.

He continues, “I was upset. I don’t do well when we lose. It pisses me off and puts me in a shit mood. Everyone knows it, so everyone leaves me alone after a game like that. They know that I need time to cool off. Otherwise I’m a total asshole.”

I make a humming sound in agreement, and he gives me a half smile, half cringe.

“I’m not sure why you were down there, but I wasn’t expecting it. I know you were trying to be nice.” He looks away from me. “Honestly, when I saw you, I thought maybe you were there to try to hook up. Then you started talking about losing the game, and your brothers, and I just didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to talk about it, and the fucked up part of my brain figured that being a jerk would be the quickest way to end the conversation.”

“If that was your goal, it worked,” I reply bluntly.

With his eyes back on me, he gives me a slight nod.

I keep my hands on my hips. “I’m not some jersey chaser. Just because my friends have found hockey players to be with, doesn’t mean I have some delusion that I’ll find my happily-ever-after on the team. I’m not after you because you’re an athlete.” Realizing how that sounds, I add, “I’m not after you at all.”

“I know. I do. And as fucking dumb as it sounds, I think that’s why I called you… that. It was the most ridiculous thing I could think of.” He runs a hand through his hair, serving only to mess it up even more. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” I agree.

“Do you forgive me?”

When I don’t answer, he squats down, putting us eye level with each other. His expression is so earnest that I find myself wanting to believe him. I know how much of a mindfuck losing can be, and I can only imagine how much worse it is to deal with when you’re at his level. But I don’t want to just be another one of those bimbos who lets a man push her around just because he has a hot face and a heavy bank account.

At my continued silence, Sebastian raises his eyebrows, looking hopeful.

“I’m thinking,” I say. “You really were a prick. A giant asshat.”

He nods. “Don’t forget dickhole.”

I fight against the urge to smile. “How could I forget?”

“That old lady sure won’t. She had quite a bit to say about you.”

“Seems to be going around,” I reply.

He winces. Then, to my surprise, he drops to his knees. Clasping his hands together in front of him, he literally begs me for forgiveness. “Please, Meghan. Megs. Banshee. My Fire Goddess of Wisdom and Kindness. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry for the things I said. I’m a major dickhole and I’ll owe you a life debt if only you’ll accept my apology.”

“Oh my god! Get up, lunatic!” I motion with my hands for him to rise.

“Not ‘til you forgive me. I take it all back. You’re no bunny. Never were. Never could be. You’re a Banshee.”

“Fine. Fine! You’re forgiven.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he knee-walks forward and wraps his arms around me. He’s so tall that even kneeling, his face is level with my chest. With his cheek pressed against my boobs, his arms tighten around my waist, pulling me in for a hug.

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. This man is not what I expected.

My honey badger is standing on two legs clapping her paws. The dirty bitch likes this show of submission.

Tugging at his shirt I whisper-shout at him, “Get up!” His response is too mumbled for me to understand. “Get your face out of my tits. I can’t hear you.” I grab a handful of hair and tug until his head is tilted back. The smile on his face is entirely wicked.

“I like having my face in your tits.” I use my free hand to flick his forehead. He just laughs. “Plus, I’m not getting up until you agree to call me Sebastian again.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You can call me Ash when you want to, but not out of spite. I just can’t have that," he frowns.

“Okay, Sebastian - ” I hiss out his name. “You’re forgiven. I’ll call you whatever you want. Just get the fuck up!”

Pulling against the grip I still have on his hair, he tilts his head back down so he’s looking right at my chest. “What can I say, I’ve been dying to bury my face in your Bundt.”

An extra-loud gasp stops me from reaching out and slapping Sebastian. We both turn our heads to see that the old hag is back and glaring at us. Before I can say anything, Sebastian turns back and starts to nuzzle his face into my cleavage. The old woman is saying something as she storms away, but I can’t hear her over my own laughter.

“Seriously, get up you maniac!” I choke out. “If you get me kicked out, I’m going to take back my forgiveness. I need to buy food!”

Releasing his grip on me, Sebastian rises to his full height, looking smug and sexy. I refuse to acknowledge how wildly my body reacted to his attention. I’ve tried to forget our make-out session in the corn maze, but my body didn’t forget. It didn’t forget at all.

“Okay. Let’s go shopping," he says, putting his basket on the bottom rack of my cart.

“Umm, what?” I ask.

“Shop-ping...” he drags the word out.

“I’m familiar with the term, thanks. But what do you mean let’s? We aren’t grocery shopping together.”

“Why not?” Sebastian asks, like I’m the crazy one.

“Well…” I don’t actually have a good reason. “I have a lot, like a lot a lot, on my list. It’s going to take me a while.”

“I got time," he shrugs.

I toss my hands up. “Alright, weirdo, let’s shop together.”

Grabbing my cart, I look through the grate at his basket and see that it’s empty. “Where’s your list?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“Do you have a list of what you need?”

“Uh, no. I’m just here to get lunch. I’ve never been to this location before, but I figured it’d have a good deli, like the other ones I’ve been to.”

“Hmm.” Guess that explains why I’ve never seen him in here before. “Why are you here if this isn’t your usual store?”

“I had a sleepover in the neighborhood.”

And just like that, my heart drops. This guy really is a player. He spent last night in bed with some woman, and the next morning he’s on his knees in a grocery store motorboating my tits.

“Ah," is all I can manage. We’re not dating. We’re nothing. I have no right to feel upset.

I take my phone out, and once again check what I need.

“Did you need anything from this aisle?” Sebastian asks.

I finally take note of where we are standing, and I have to stop myself from doing a literal face-palm. We are in a sea of adult diapers, pads, organic tampons, a large selection of vegan lube, and of course, pregnancy tests.

“No.” I go back to pushing the cart.

“Are you sure?” Sebastian easily keeps stride with me. “I did find you, talking to yourself, before you had a chance to grab anything.”

I glance up and see that he’s smirking down at me.

“I was trying to get away from you. And talking myself down from my plan to murder you via an eggplant shoved down your throat. It seemed like a good idea.”

Sebastian laughs. He’s smart enough not to comment on the fact that I’m leading us back to the produce section. I wasn’t done when I rushed away from him earlier.

Opening a bag of red grapes, I gently squeeze a few.

“What are you checking for?” He opens his own bag.

“Just to see how firm they are. I like the crunchy ones. Squishy grapes creep me out.”

“Huh.” He watches as I go through and select the perfect bag. When I pick one, he reaches over and plucks one of the grapes off the bunch and pops it in his mouth. I watch him chew. His jaw flexing, his throat working with a swallow. It’s disturbingly attractive.

We wander through the stands silently for a few minutes. I can feel Sebastian’s eyes on me as I sniff through a pile of peaches, selecting the ones that are just a day or two shy of perfectly ripe.

I’m digging through a pile of garlic bulbs when Ash startles me by saying, “My brother.”

“What?” I turn to look at him.

“My brother, Curtis, lives over here. I stayed at his house last night.”

“Oh. Okay.” I try to keep the relief off my face. “I didn’t ask.”

“Uh huh, you were not asking... very loudly.”

I make a noncommittal sound. “You guys must be close.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sebastian says as I move on to the bananas. “He has the cutest little twins. They’re… I dunno, like eight months old now. Curtis’s wife left last night for a much-deserved girls' retreat, and he was freaking out a little about being home alone with little Anna and Raymond. But - of course - he couldn’t tell the Mrs. that he was losing his shit, so I offered to stay the night.”

“That was awfully nice of you.” My honey badger is swooning against my ribs and her eyes are little cartoon hearts, imaging Sebastian with an armful of babies.

“Nah, not that nice. I pawned him off on my parents for the rest of the weekend. It was nice hanging with my brother for a night, but I’m not looking for a whole weekend of parental duty. Plus, I have today off, but it’s back to the grind tomorrow.”

“That’s right. You guys have a home game.”

“Sure do. You comin'?”

“No. I have a birthday party. Or, well, a foundation’s birthday party.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

I chuckle. “It’s for work. I’m an event planner, so I have to be there to make sure all the details run smoothly.”

“Event planner.” He gives me a slow once over. “I can see it.”

“Oh shut up,” I smack his chest. “I can be professional. This is my weekend no-one-I-know-is-meant-to-see-me look.”

Sebastian smiles. “I like it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I roll my eyes.

“What? I do - it's fun. Just like you.”

I’m glad he’s walking behind me as I finally lead us away from the produce. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are pink, and my smile could be described as dopey.

I snag some bacon on the way to the baking section because every home needs a proper bacon stash.

Pausing in front of the flour, I take a deep breath. This is my mecca. I start piling items in my cart. I’m low on just about everything, and I need to make more of my coffee cakes.

“Don’t you have a co-worker you could switch shifts with?”

With a bag of pecans in each hand, I face Sebastian.

“Switch shifts?”

“For tomorrow. So you could come to the game.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s being a little bashful.

“Oh, right -” I smile proudly. “It’s just me, there are no co-workers. I run my own business.”

“No shit? That’s cool. Color me impressed.” His words seem genuine.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fucking impressive,” I laugh, tossing the nuts in the cart.

“How long have you had your company?”

“A few years now.”

He nods approvingly. “Is owning your own business what you always wanted to do?”

“I started it not too long after I finished college. I got my degree in business management, because I had no idea what I wanted to do. Then the first office job I got, I ended up being tasked with planning their annual sales meeting. Then their Christmas party. Then the summer picnic. And it just kinda became my thing. I was good at it, if I dare say so myself, and it got my gears turning. I ended up leaving that job for a low-level position at an event planning company. Spent a year there learning as much as I could, then went out on my own. I bartended to pay the bills until Meghan’s Moments became big enough to sustain me on its own. Which actually didn’t take as long as I thought it would. So, I’ve been working full-time for myself for about four years now.”

“Congratulations.”

I shrug, pawing through the sugar selection.

“I mean it. That’s really awesome. You had a goal. Set a path. And succeeded. Not many people can claim such a thing.”

“Thanks.” I turn to face him. “I’ve always been a bit…”

“Stubborn.”

I glare at Sebastian.

“Hard-headed?” he suggests.

“Not what I was going to say,” I respond. “Maybe annoyingly persistent? Oh, wait, no. That’s you.”

He just smirks.

I move to the flours, and I can hear him digging around in my cart.

“Who needs this much sugar? What do you do with it all?”

I spin around and swat at his hands. “Keep your grubby man paws off my stuff.”

“Alright, alright - ” Sebastian puts his hands up like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Seriously, though. What do you do with all this stuff?”

“Uh, bake things. Duh.”

“But why do you have so many types?” He looks honestly perplexed, pointing to the bags.

“Have you never seen brown sugar before?”

“You have three! And they’re all different!”

I laugh. “What’d you do, grow up under a rock? I have light and dark brown sugar. The third is Turbinado.” He gives me a blank stare, so I continue. “I’m getting more powdered sugar, too.”

He holds up the large bag of granulated sugar. I find myself rolling my eyes again. “Okay, and that too.”

“Seriously. What do you do with this?” Sebastian’s starting to look concerned.

“I repackage it and sell it at the farmers market.” I deadpan.

“Really?”

“Ohmygod.” How is this smart man so dense? “No, you fool. I use it. Cookies, cakes, breads, whatever. I do normal things with the sugar.”

“Hmmm.” He stares into my cart for a long moment. “You must be a good cook. Baker. Whatever.”

I dump an armful of chocolate chips into the cart. “I do alright.”

“I bet you do more than alright," he traces a finger along the edge of the bacon packaging. That shouldn’t be any kind of sexual, but a tingle runs along my arm as if it were my body he was touching. His eyes come up to meet mine. “Cook me dinner tonight.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

I’m about to say yes, when I remember I have plans.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“None of your damn business.” I meant to say it sternly but thinking about the sex toy party has the corner of my mouth pulling up.

“Why does that sound nefarious?”

“Me? Nefarious? Never!” I say, aghast.

“Do you have a date?”

I snort. “Oh, yeah. I’ll definitely be getting a dick tonight.” I pause and tilt my head. “Well, technically, I’ll be buying it.”

“What?!”

Deciding I’ve gotten what I need, I grab the cart handle and start to push.

From behind, Sebastian reaches around, one arm on either side of me, grabbing the handle. His grip halts my forward motion.

He takes a step closer, pressing the front of his body against the back of mine.

“Banshee. You had better not be paying for sex.”

God, he’s way too easy to rile up.

I tip my head back until I’m looking straight up into his eyes. “You got a problem with that, Ash? Because I’m pretty sure I’m free to do whatever, and whoever, I want.”

He growls.

He honest-to-god growls.

And my panties go damp.

He stares at me for a long moment before breaking the silence. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Not tonight...” I bat my eyes.

“Meghan.”

“Sebastian,” I tease.

He ducks his head, putting his face in the crook of my neck. I can feel his chest rumbling, so I know he’s talking, but I can’t understand the words that he murmurs against my skin.

I reach up and pat the top of his head. “Relax, caveman. The dick I’m buying tonight is silicon.”

Another rumbled word comes out and I’m pretty sure it was what.

“My friend is throwing a sex toy party. So tonight is gonna be a bunch of drunk, horny chicks, buying playthings.”

His head slowly rises until he’s making eye contact. “And do you already own some of these playthings?”

“Several. But there’s still room in my drawer for more.” I wink.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For all the new material that just went into my spank bank.” He bends down again, only this time he bites my neck.

I yelp and elbow him in the side.

Sebastian chuckles, but releases his grip on my cart, so I hurry to put some distance between us.

“I don’t know what it is, Banshee, but something about you getting all violent just fucking does it for me," he says from a few paces behind me. “Come on, Babe. Hit me, again. Just one more time.”

“Pretty sure it’s a form of erectile dysfunction if getting smacked in the face stirs your cock. Diagnosis heavy on the dysfunction.”

Sebastian just laughs.

We carry on through the rest of the store, talking about food and needling each other.  And I have to admit, shopping with Sebastian has been fun. You never can tell where a day will take you.

Stopping in front of the ice cream coolers, I search for the one I need. Spotting the high-end vanilla, I open the door and reach for it.

“Hold on,” Sebastian stops me.

“What?”

“Two things. First, with all your crazy food selections, why the hell are you picking out boring-ass vanilla ice cream?”

Letting the cooler door shut, I step back. “If you must know. I currently have several crazy flavors already at home. I need the vanilla for my balsamic and peaches.”

Sebastian looks horrified. “Balsamic. As in vinegar? On ice cream? What’s wrong with you?!”

I dig the bottle out from under my pile of sugars. “This.” I show him the cinnamon pear label. “Mixed with sautéed peaches, on top of boring-ass vanilla ice cream is one of the best things you will ever put in your mouth.”

He looks torn between disgust and lust as he slowly shakes his head. “I doubt that. Very much.”

“Well, you’d be wrong. What was the second question? Thing. Whatever.”

“Oh, right. Secondly,” he starts to push me away from the ice cream. “Buy the frozen stuff later. Otherwise it will melt.”

“Melt?”

“Yeah. Since you’re ditching me for a bunch of dildos tonight, you’re having lunch with me. Here. Now.”

“Uh, okay, my turn for two things - ” I poke a finger into his chest. “First, I’m not ditching you. I hadn’t even planned on seeing you today. Or honestly, of talking to you ever again.”

“Hmmm. Fair enough.” He nods. “And secondly?”

I drop my hand. “Secondly, what if I already had lunch?”

He raises a brow. “Then you can just sit and watch me eat. But since it’s…” He looks at his watch, “just after 11:00, I doubt you ate lunch before coming here.”

“Fine,” I huff, acting put-out.

But secretly, I’m a bit excited. Fuck it, I’m ecstatic.

I went into today hating Sebastian’s existence, but after the past hour together I’m ready to give him another shot. He’s just so damn easy to be with. Today was just like the haunted hell place. Only grocery shopping is about as mundane as you can possibly get, so making it fun… yeah, takes a special type of person.

We split up in the massive deli section, each making our own lunches. I can never decide what to get when I come here, so my container has a little bit of everything off the hot bar. Then I fill a soup cup with bread pudding. Because… bread pudding.