And then, we sealed it with a kiss, the kind that had me melting into him as his mouth claimed mine like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
The air was heavy, but my heart was light as I kissed him back like he was the only guy in the world. Funny, it felt that way, too, because already, he had spoiled me for anyone else.
Oh, yeah. I was a goner, alright.
43
One Man, Two Sodas
Griff
The island's only grocery store was small, but impressively stocked. I saw local jams, fancy cheeses, and fresh bread that didn't come in plastic bags.
The setup was surprisingly charming – and a little daunting, considering my budget.
I stood in front of the deli case, squinting at sliced meats like I was trying to pick out a diamond.Honey ham or smoked turkey?They were different brands, but the turkey was a buck cheaper. I added it to the basket, then backtracked and grabbed the ham, too.If I was gonna do this, I'd be doing it right.
Back in Chicago – or anywhere else with my cash and cards – I'd be taking Maisie to a nice dinner and maybe a show. There'd be cocktails, good wine, and more. But today? I had no wine, no reservations, and no black AmEx to make things easy.
It was just me, a basket of groceries, and an idea I couldn't shake.
A couple of days ago, before we'd made things physical, she'd lit up talking about her favorite hiking trails and some of the sights on the island. So sure, my wallet was slim, but that didn't mean I couldn't still show her a decent time.
I was just eyeing a wedge of Manchego when, from somewhere behind me, a familiar voice said, "What, did your private chef quit?"
Smartass.Ihadno private chef – as he damn well knew. I had a housekeeper, sure, but even I drew the line at having some fancy-pants chef prepare my meals.
Reluctantly, I turned in time to see Ryder toss a bag of jerky into his basket like a man who'd never checked a price tag in his life.
As I wondered what the hell he was doing here, he gave my basket a long once-over, taking in the bread, the lunch meat, the Dijon mustard, a bag of kettle chips, and two bottled sodas that I'd spent a full minute debating.
He cocked an eyebrow. "Lemme guess. You're sick of her sandwiches."
I wasn't, actually.Ever since I'd refused a paycheck, Maisie had been going all out with the sandwiches and sides – giving me more than I'd bargained, like she was trying to make up for the fact I'd refused the money.
It was sweet and told me a lot about her character, especially now that I knew she had problems with a loan.
To Ryder, I replied, "What I'm sick of is you showing up to give me a hard time."
He scoffed. "Who says I'm here for you?"
I knew bull when I heard it. "You're not?"
"Alright. Yeah, I am."
"See?"
His eyebrows lifted. "But when I stopped by your place last night, you were gone."
I was staring now. "In the storm?"
He shrugged. "Eh, it wasafterthe storm. Maybe around eleven."
The timetable didn't mesh. "So you were what? Flying hereduringthe storm?"
He scoffed. "Forgetme. I wanna know whatyou'reup to." He lowered his voice to a mock whisper. "You wanna talk about it?"
It felt like a dodge. But hey, I could play that game, too. "Nope."
