I reach out a hand for him. “Come on, sweetie. It’s time to get out now.”
He sighs very dramatically before finally caving. “Okay.”
Hallelujah.
Crew takes a step toward me, but trips over a bag and belly flops onto the cheese.
“Crew!” I rush to the door closest to him. “Are you okay?”
“That was fun.” He grins so big dimples appear in his cheeks.
I shake my head. At least he’s alright. “Come on, honey.” I try to tug him out, but he’s heavier than he was two minutes ago.
“Ow! I’m stuck.”
Now my child isstuckin the supermarket fridge.I’ll take that Mother of the Year award over here, aisle seven, please.
I’m still trying to figure out how to get his foot free when two big arms reach in, lift the shelf off his foot, and pull him free of the fridge.
Humiliation burns every inch of my skin. Maybe I should stay in this fridge, like forever. Crew was right; it has a certain charm to it. But a stranger, a strong one at that, just saved my child. I should probably address my horrible parenting skills now.
“I believe this belongs to you,” the man says, and his deep voice brings my head up and up to his face, which is much too gorgeous to look at without the proper eye care. His skin is perfectly tanned, his jawline so sharp it could scratch diamonds. His eyes are dark and mysterious and I wonder what it would take to uncover the secrets hidden in those irises. Or maybe I could just curl up in his big, strong arms instead. They certainly look very capable.
Get it together Lyndi. You may be hungry, but this isn’t the meat section.
I try to withhold the nervous laughter rising up my throat, but fail, letting out a very awkward snort instead. “I think the phrase isfinder’s keepers.”
I catch my gaze drifting to his empty ring finger before realizing where my eyes have gone.He can keep me too.
“Let me go!” Crew pushes back, pulling at the man’s collar, uncovering a tattoo on the man’s chest. “What’s that?” he asks, immediately giving up his fight. He tugs harder on the shirt, revealing a series of numbers that continue down the man’s chest. I’ve never had an opinion one way or another about tattoos, but suddenly I’m very interested in where that black ink leads.
The man shifts awkwardly, forcing Crew to drop the shirt. “Just a tattoo I got in the military.” He sets his jaw.
“Cool. I want a tatted too,” Crew says.
“No,” both I and this strange man say at the same time. He grimaces and gives Crew a tight smile. “You don’t want one like this, little dude.”
“Fine.“ He shrugs. “Can I get Sweety Fish instead?” At least for now, his requests are easily appeased.
“Not this time, honey,” I say, finally reaching for my child. The man hands him over and my fingertips brush his forearm.
Tingles skate up my hands and my eyelids flutter against the sensation.
“But I want Sweety Fish. You promised!” Crew wails, obviously unaware of the fuse that keeps tripping in the grocery store.
“That was before you climbed in the fridge,” I say calmly. “You can’t do stuff like that.” There’s no world in which this conversation ends well.
Crew responds with an ear-piercing scream and I take a deep breath. “What did Mommy say before we came in the store?”
He rubs his liquid-filled eyes. “To be good.”
“Do you think climbing in the fridge was a good choice?”
He shakes his head, then his body collapses into me as sobs overtake him.He needs a nap. So do I.
I return my gaze to the man. He swipes a hand through his hair that’s so brown it’s almost black. “Thank you for getting him out,” I say, loud enough to be heard over my child’s cries.
“You're welcome.” He nods and one tiny corner of his upper lip lifts. A bead of sweat drips down my back.
