of people buying potato chips, they’d be growing and preserving their own food. If she sold anything, it would be gasoline and a few staples like flour, salt and pepper, sugar, and some spices if she could get them.
Sighing, she used the flashlight to check the store, looking in the storage area, the coolers, the bathrooms. Empty. She didn’t lock the door behind her. She needed to be able to get out quickly, without fiddling with the lock. In the deep silence the sound of the lock turning was loud, and would alert anyone who might be in the parking lot.
Surprise was her friend.
She placed the rifle on the counter, the box of shells beside it, then turned the flashlight off and settled in the chair behind the counter. From there she could see almost the entire parking lot, and certainly anyone who approached by road. The moon was almost full, and provided enough light that she thought she’d be able to spot any trouble.
The interior of the store was icy cold, but with the multiple layers of clothes she was wearing, the extra socks and down coat, she was, if not comfortable, at least not miserable. She figured that would change, as the hours wore on. Maybe people would start lining up early, really early, which would nullify anyone’s idea of stealing the gasoline, and all of them could build a fire outside, away from the tanks, and stand around talking for the rest of the night.
She wished Ben were there with her. The conditions weren’t favorable for making out, but just having him beside her would make her happy. They might not talk much, but sit beside each other the way they had the night of the red aurora. She smiled in the dark, then thought of how he tasted and felt and the smile turned into a soft sigh of longing.
Her gaze was drawn from the empty parking lot to Cove Mountain, looming dark and silent in front of her. She couldn’t pinpoint where Ben’s house was because there were no lights, but she could get close. He was up there right now with his shower and his dog, with his solar panels and his wood-burning stove and goodness only knows what else. If he couldn’t be here with her, she wished she was there with him. Lord knows they’d both be more comfortable.
What time was it? She knew she hadn’t taken more than half an hour—more like twenty minutes—to get dressed, stop by Carol’s, and get here. Likely it was no later than eleven; that meant she had about seven more long hours of darkness to get through. Sitting here in the cold and the dark was boring, but boring was good. Boring meant nothing was happening.
When we have sex . . .
Their conversation kept running through her mind, along with her acute memory of his arms, and his fine ass in those jeans he always wore, and his face, which was masculine and well proportioned and all-in-all drool worthy. She didn’t fantasize about men, not movie stars or musicians or men she knew. Her brain didn’t work that way. But here she sat, definitely fantasizing about Ben Jernigan and getting herself worked up. At least thinking about him kept her from feeling so cold, and definitely kept her awake.
Movement and a flicker of light at the left corner front window caught her eye. Sela stood quickly, lifting her rifle, not pointing the weapon but wanting it in her hand. Someone was approaching the store.
A split second later, thanks to the full moon, she recognized the form headed her way.
Olivia opened the door and stepped inside, the weak beam from her flashlight pointed to the floor.
“What are you thinking?” Sela snapped as she set the rifle aside. She seldom got sharp with anyone, but Olivia had just scared the crap out of her. What if she hadn’t recognized the girl? What if she’d panicked and shot without thinking? She wasn’t the type to panic, but Olivia was dear to her and her imagination threw up too many what-if situations that could have happened.
Olivia had dressed much like Sela had, with boots and a heavy coat. Carol’s .22 was slung over the teenager’s shoulder, along with two small tote bags.
“I was thinking you shouldn’t be here on your own,” Olivia said calmly, in answer to Sela’s question.
“I can’t believe Nancy would let you—”
“She doesn’t know. I slipped out the back door, but I did leave a note