Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
The grocery store is bright, clean, and orderly. Though new places can be a lot. Just getting used to where things are and making sense of the selections and such. With my mind overwhelmed, it takes me a while to notice the weirdness. A young white man watching me in fruit and vegetables. A lady with a teenager in tow staring at me in cold goods. A person in the bakery area doing a double take as I help myself to both cookies and brownies. However, it is the outright judginess of the older couple in the alcohol aisle that really does it. Like I am not a woman with needs!
While I was prepared to attract a certain degree of attention as a stranger in a small town, this is excessive. What are the chances it’s due to the damn hometown sweethearts?
Even the dude at the checkout looks askance at my selections before saying, “Have a nice night, Riley. Tell Connor I said hi.”
I smile and mutter thanks and move right along. The sky is covered in clouds when I walk outside. Getting my groceries delivered will be the way to go in the future. I just wanted to have a look around the store to check out the local food and drink choices.
Luckily the elevator in my new apartment building is now working. A relief, since cardio sucks.
“Riley,” yells a voice from behind. It’s followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. “Wait up.”
I turn to find Connor hot on my heels. “Hi.”
“Can I help?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks.”
He stands beside the cart while I open the back of my Jeep and shove stuff aside to make room. The parking lot is far from empty despite it being after nine. Someone calls out to Connor, and he raises a hand in greeting. A couple walks past, and he gives them a nod. He really does seem to know everyone.
“You can go shop,” I say. “I really am fine.”
Tonight he wears another pair of jeans and a tee, but Converse replace the sturdy black boots. His longish golden hair is still a little damp, as if he just showered. And when he steps closer, I catch a hint of soap and cologne. Something warm with hints of salt and wood. He’s still ridiculously good-looking. Though his looks weren’t likely to disappear overnight. It’s the heavy line of his jaw and curious blue eyes that get me. I doubt he misses a thing. Adding the tall, lean, muscular body to all of that is just overkill. But he is still out of my league, and therefore neither my type nor my problem.
Unless I agree to fake dating. Which isn’t out of the question. The idea has been sitting in the back of my head all day—thoughts of him intruding at odd moments. He is pure hero material, no wonder he lives in my brain rent-free.
“I don’t need anything from the store,” he says, glancing over his shoulder.
“If you don’t need anything, why are you here?”
“Ana Rosa from the bank texted Cynthia the middle school teacher, who as I understand it is in a group chat for the art co-op with Margarida, a local potter who is friends with my sister-in-law Nicole.”
“And she called you?”
“No,” he says. “She got my brother Stuart to pass on the message. Which he did, after complaining for a solid eight minutes about the Mariners.”
I just blink.
“Seems that Ana Rosa saw you were stocking up on groceries and thought I should help.”
“Because they all still think you’re my boyfriend.”
“Yeah. Why don’t we talk while I perform the manly duty of lifting shit?” He pauses to nod to a couple walking past carrying a small child, who is loudly naming everything they see. Bike. Shop. Doggie. And so on.
A car cruises slowly past us and the driver’s eyes are not on the road. Nope. They’re on us.
Connor turns back to me, frowns and leans closer. “Let me just…” He reaches out and oh so carefully tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s a smooth move. “There you go.”
I ignore the shiver that slides down my spine at his touch. My ears are weirdly sensitive tonight is all.
“Your hair is so soft,” he says, vaguely surprised.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You tucking my hair behind my ear,” I accuse him in a whisper hiss. “I haven’t agreed to your fake dating plan yet, Connor.”
He oh so casually looks over his shoulder again. Then he winces and attempts a smile and says, “No. You misunderstand me.”
“Oh, do I?”
“Yes. There was a, ah, bug in your hair. I was just getting it out.”
“Really? What kind?”
“It was a ladybug. Which are supposed to be lucky right? So that’s nice.”
“You are so full of shit.”
He frowns. “You wound me.”
“Connor…”
“Fine.” He sighs. “Pastor Mike is unpacking his groceries in the next aisle. The man talks like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”