Fynn grabbed Nolan’s wrist and hung on. “In this case, I like careful in a man.”
Nolan massaged gently with his fingers.Distract him.“But not in most cases? What do you usually like in a man?”Oops, perhaps notthatdistraction, but he didn’t take the question back.
Fynn tilted his head as if thinking. “Patience. Kindness.” He dropped his eyes to where his fingers ringed Nolan’s wrist. “I’m getting fond of big hands.”
That should’ve been Nolan’s cue to let go, but Fynn still clung to him like a lifeline, and Nolan didn’t want to dislodge him. He did stop his finger massage and made sure he stayed down close to Fynn’s knee. “And men who cook?”Harmless distraction only.
“Definitely gets my attention. I like good food, even if I get too busy most of the time.”
“Did my French toast qualify?”
“Seven out of ten.”
“Would’ve been eight if you’d had blueberries.”
“Maybe a nine.” Fynn blew out a breath and settled back in his seat, letting go of Nolan’s wrist. “Thanks. I’m better. Not freaking out.”
Nolan was almost sorry to be able to move his hand. He settled further into his seat too. “I’m glad.” He spoke to his phone. “Call Charlie.” And when he connected, “Report?”
“Not seeing any problems,” Charlie replied. “All clear on your six.”
“Go check the grocery parking lot then. It’s Fynn’s usual place to shop.”
“On it.”
Fynn turned to him. “I shop different days of the week, though. I can’t imagine someone would hang out for days waiting for me. In such a crowded spot too?”
“Nor can I,” Nolan reassured him. “Like I said, I’m being careful. The store isn’t the kidnappers’ MO. Both times, they tried to pull you over somewhere relatively isolated. That doesn’t describe All-Foods on a Sunday.”
“Right.” Fynn glanced forward and back, eyes on the cars they passed, tracking other drivers with jerky movements of his head. He wound his hands together, fingers tangling until Nolan ached to quiet them.
“It’ll be fine. I promise.” Nolan would make that true, dammit. “Hey. What’s your biggest indulgence in a grocery store? The thing you can’t resist?”
“Pringles.” Fynn laughed and his hands relaxed. “Sculpted, formed, mashed, dried and re-fried once-potato chips, with a day’s worth of salt, but soooo addictive. Especially the cheddar kind. Now they have these half-size tubes by the checkout to tempt me if I resist through the regular snack aisle.” He turned to Nolan, his brown eyes flecked with bright gold. “What’s yours?”
Today, I’m afraid it might be you.“Jellybeans,” he admitted instead, because that was true enough. “Luckily, I can avoid those by skipping the candy aisle.”
“Do you separate out the colors and eat one kind at a time?”
“No, I like to be surprised by what I get next.”
“Barbarian.” Fynn turned to the window as they pulled into the parking lot. “Oh, we’re here.”
“Yep. Amelia’s going to let us off out front, and then park and meet us inside.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll get out first, and you follow me out this side. Then right into the store.”
“Got it.”
Once they were inside, Fynn visibly relaxed. Nolan tried to hide his hypervigilance while still watching all the other shoppers for signs of trouble. Fynn grabbed a cart, pushing it toward the produce section. “I need fruit, althoughnotavocados— Oh, look.” He pointed to the avocado section which was flanked by a small shelf holding green ’CadoBoxes. On top of the display, a monitor played a video ad. Fynn drifted nearer, eyeing two women who’d stopped to watch the infomercial.
“I don’t know,” one of them said to the other. “Just for avocados?”
The second woman ran a finger over one of the cartons, tracing the logo. “Like it said, imagine never again being ready to make your avocado toast, cutting into the avocado, and it’s all brown inside.”
“Ew. Yeah. Wrecks my morning.”
