Deep inside, long-buried instincts suddenly flared to life for the first time in years, warning her that she was in the presence of something dangerous. All the labels and prices blurred together into a stew of brewing panic.
Screw it, it’s all wine in the end.Snatching up a random bottle, she was seconds away from escaping when the stranger spoke.
“Excuse me.”
Oh, god. He wasn’t talking to her, was he? No, he was probably on the phone. She hadn’t seen a phone in his hand, though. Oh wait, he probably had a Bluetooth earpiece, and she just couldn’t see it. She grabbed her bottle, turned—
And stopped dead.
He was looking right at her, and he’d definitely been speaking to her.
This time, she felt a glimmer of attraction shine through all the wariness. His eyes were beautiful. A warm amber, like glittering gemstones, and so bright they were mesmerizing.
His face was masculine yet elegant, his clean-shaven jaw square while his mouth was soft. His tanned skin and deep black hair made her think of deserts baking in the sun in a faraway land. Somewhat more intimidating was the thick, black tribal tattoo encircling his neck like a collar.
She just stared at him, though she knew it was embarrassing as hell.
“Excuse me,” he said again.
“Y-yes?”
This was the city. People didn’t make small talk with strangers in the city, and they certainly didn’t converse in depanneurs.
There was an unwritten rule that deps were safe zones. No matter what weird stuff you were in the middle of doing, nobody would bother you as long as you didn’t break any laws. You kept your eyes down, paid for your stuff, and got out of there unscathed.
Lily had been counting on that. She never would’ve braved a trip here if she’d imagined she would be forced to converse with strange, gorgeous men.
“You are female,” he stated.
Her eyes widened. Okay, that was weird. And creepy. How did she extract herself from this?
At least he hadn’t spoken French. Montreal was a bilingual city, but she still hadn’t learned the language in the nine years she’d lived here. She’d been too busy trying to hide her Irish accent, and her broken, disjointed French made her feel self-conscious, so she never practiced.
“Um…” Was he going to proposition her? Try to assault her? Oh god, why didn’t she carry pepper spray? If she survived this, she would buy some first thing tomorrow. And why hadn’t she spent her entire life in rigorous martial arts training? In fact, why had she thought it was a good idea to leave her house at all? She should have known better. She should have—
“Which of these flavors has more chocolate?”
He held out two cartons of Ben & Jerry’s.
She stared at them, confusion overriding every other thought in her brain. “W-what?”
“I’m purchasing ice cream for a menstruating female. She demanded chocolate. But these both have the word ‘chocolate’ in the title, and I don’t know which she would prefer.”
Her eyes wandered from the ice cream back up to his striking face, which she stared at with amazement. He was completely sincere. This utterly gorgeous, tall, muscular man with neck tattoos was buying ice cream for his ‘menstruating’ girlfriend.
Forget being afraid, she was in love.
Where can I get myself a man like that?
“Buy them both,” she said. “That way she can choose one now and have more for later.”
His eyes widened. “That’s good advice.”
She found herself smiling, her earlier fear dissipating. “Well, I’m an expert in all things chocolate.”
“You enjoy it too?”
She nodded and held up her chocolate bars with a sheepish smile.
