I adjust the bags in my arms, and one of them bursts open, the contents going in different directions. Cursing, I rush to grab them, but he snatches my wrist just as I’m about to take a step.
“Don’t,” he says.
I freeze. My heart skips a beat at the unexpected touch. I look at him, my hair sticking to my face. His blue eyes are intense, and his jaw is set in a way that suggests he’s not going to back down.
“I’ll be quick,” I say.
He holds my gaze for a second, his thumb brushing gently over my wrist where he’s holding me. The rain beats down harder.
“You’re not going out there,” he says. “I’ll go.”
I look down at his hand and then back up to his face. “I’m fine.” I need to prove I can handle this myself. It’s a small thing, but it matters. I’ve been taking care of myself for so long that accepting help, even for something trivial, feels like surrendering a piece of my independence.
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he steps closer. “Please don’t.”
His eyes drop to my cami, then flick back up to my face, and there’s a darkness there that makes me shiver in the best way.
I swallow roughly, trying to regain some composure, but the pull between us is undeniable now.
“You’re really bossy for a guy who spent twenty minutes picking out overpriced apples.”
His lips curve into a smile, but there’s something deeper in his expression now. “And you’re really stubborn for a woman who’s about to catch a cold over sugar.”
He doesn’t move back, his hand still gently holding my wrist, though he’s aware of how close we are. His thumb absently traces a small circle against my skin, sending an electric current up my arm.
I look up at him, my eyes searching his face, and what I see makes my breath catch. The usual guarded confidence is gone, replaced by something vulnerable. His eyes have softened at the corners, pupils dilated against the blue. There’s a slight furrow between his eyebrows, not of frustration but of restraint, like he’s fighting an internal battle. His lips are slightly parted, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. For a split second, the distance between us seems to shrink. The playful barrier has cracked, leaving something raw in its place.
“You’re making this weird,” I finally whisper.
He swallows, his fingers tightening around my arm just slightly, enough to make my skin tingle.
“I’m not trying to make it weird. Just…” He pauses.
“I can do it. Stop trying to be my hero.” I try to sound casual despite the confusing flutter in my chest.
He lets out a breath, a small chuckle breaking the intensity of the moment.
“Okay, okay. I’ll hold the bags. You go.”
He steps back slightly, releasing my wrist but lingering close.
A small, relieved laugh slips from my lips, even though my pulse is still racing. “I’ll make this quick.”
He nods as his lips curve up.
I sprint out into the rain. My feet slip slightly on the wet pavement, but I catch myself and keep going, refusing to give up.
I reach the cookie package just as it begins to slide toward the gutter. My cold, wet fingers close around it just in time. I hold it up like a trophy, the rain pouring down on my face.
“Got it,” I yell, but my breaths come faster. My heartbeat is a little more erratic from the chase. I scan the concrete, spot both peanut butters and kale, and snatch them up.
When I turn to head back, I’m startled to find Oliver still standing under the awning... He listened to me, and that sends an expected warmth through me despite the cold rain.
I’m out of breath, and my soaked clothes cling to me in a way that makes me feel naked. He watches me, his clothes wet too, his abs visible through his shirt, and the way the rain beads on his skin makes me want to lick him all over. When I’m back under the awning, my focus stays on the food, but he’s looking at me differently. There’s something in his eyes, something that wasn’t there before. It makes my pulse spike. I find myself shifting slightly, a subtle motion I can’t quite explain.
He’s a little hesitant, the teasing smile from earlier fading.
“You really risked your life for those?” He says it almost absently, his voice rougher than it should be.