V.B. Law

She wasn’t a heroine in some Hollywood blockbuster. She was a twenty-six-year-old environmental lawyer, living in

She wasn’t a heroine in some Hollywood blockbuster. She was a twenty-six-year-old environmental lawyer, living in Lincoln Park and trying to forget Sanford, the hometown she knew had forgotten her the moment she’d skipped out.

“This whole Syrian Virus is a hoax—it’s a conspiracy to control us.”

“It’s a plan-demic! Big pharma is behind it!”

“I’ve been in love with you since that day you sprained your ankle at the lake. Remember? I carried you to the car so you could go get it x-rayed.”
“That’s seven years ago, Jake.”

It was hard not to succumb to “damsel in distress” when every step rubbed her raw feet, her shoulders ached with the heavy pack, and she was tired. So tired.

He welcomed—hell, he relished—the responsibility he felt for Mackenzie. Even when he dated other women, she was always somewhere in the back of his mind. Now, the instinct to care for her, to protect her, had strengthened to a tangible level. He could feel his dedication to her in the thrumming beat of his heart.

Jake was energized with purpose and Mackenzie took a moment to admire his assertiveness, the straightforward manner in which he’d taken control, allowing her a comforting warmth in his steadfast protection. Who knew making someone feel safe could be sexy?

“Don’t get weird on me. It’s just an erection. Happens most mornings.” He grinned.
“No. Nope, not going there.”
“It’s a normal bodily function.”
“Jake, stop! We are not talking about your dick.”
“You just did.”

He sighed. Why was everything so damn hard? Nothing was easy anymore. He prided himself on being resilient and practical, but was it too much to ask for a simple home ransacking to go to plan?

“That’s…. psychopathic, right? Who plays fantasy apocalypse?” Mackenzie’s question was met with silence…