Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately,” he says carefully. “The stress. The pressure. Not wanting to let your family down and thinking it all rides on you to some extent.”
Well, you nailed that. I grab the edge of the cart handle, refusing to look at him.
“I wonder if you’ve been getting enough sleep. If you’ve had Troy or whoever is with you, stop to get you a cheeseburger and milkshake sometimes.”
His voice is steady, but his tone is soft. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him besides me.
I watch him choose a pack of hamburger meat from the cooler and wonder if he’s thought about me before now. Has he wondered how I was doing? Has he worried about me? The thought makes me grin.
“What?” he asks, dropping the meat next to the berries.
“Actually, Calvin has been really sweet with me,” I say, enjoying how his jaw pulses at the information. I see you, Foxx. “I feel really comfortable around him.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yeah. I asked Jason to make Calvin the lead on my detail,” I lie. “I feel like he really understands me and my needs, you know?”
He hums. The sound tumbles across my skin, landing in my core.
“Hey, wait,” I say, turning back to the personal care aisle. “I need a few things down here.”
He’s stewing behind me. His discontent hits me full force, rippling off him in waves and pounding my back. I’m glad he can’t see my face. I wouldn’t want him to see my grin.
I take a package of razors, a bottle of face wash, and a toothbrush off the shelves. It takes a second to find a decent moisturizer, but I finally locate one on the top shelf.
“Astrid is sending me a few things on Monday,” I say, dumping the items into the cart. “But this will get me through until then. Except for clothes. Is there a place to grab a few things in town?”
“No.” He sighs. “We’d have to go to Breakwater for that, but the shops there are probably closed by now.”
I look at my phone. “At seven o’clock on a Saturday?”
“This isn’t Nashville, sweetheart.”
My gaze flips to his. I’m all too pleased with myself. “Sweetheart, huh?”
“It’s an informal term of address.”
“It’s also a term of endearment,” I say, even though I’m aware he didn’t mean it like that. Still, it’s fun to watch him squirm.
He pushes the cart by me. “Maybe for some people.”
“For a lot of people,” I say, catching up with him. “I would even venture to say that it’s used more as a term of endearment than an informal term of address or whatever you said.”
“I think we’ve established that I’m not like a lot of people.”
“You’re not like a lot of people, or you don’t like a lot of people?”
He reaches for a bag of granola. “Both.”
“That was the hardest part about working with you,” I say as we continue through the store. “But Calvin, on the other hand—”
“Say another word about Calvin, and I’ll ensure he never works with you again.”
He stops abruptly, causing a woman to nearly ram her cart into us. Foxx doesn’t bother to acknowledge her. His focus is on me.
My body tingles as I search his narrowed eyes. He lifts his chin, warning me to back off.
He should know me better than that by now.
“I love that you think you have any say whatsoever about who I work with,” I say, grinning like he’s not getting to me. “The only control you have over that is when you walked away.”
His nostrils flare. “Let’s not do this here.”
“Oh, so we’ll do it later.” I wink at him, only to wind him up a bit more. “I mean talk. Not … it.”
We have a stand-off next to the crumb cakes. I’m not sure which of us is going to break first. Just as I think he’s going to give in, a woman with a name tag hanging from her chest walks by.
“Here to pick up another key, Foxx?” she asks, laughing.
He looks up, glaring at her.
She keeps walking without breaking stride. “Have a good evening.”
“A key?” I ask.
He heaves a breath and pushes the cart once again. “Don’t ask.”
“I already did.”
“My keys have been coming up all over town,” he says.
“Really? That seems out of character for you.”
He side-eyes me. “That’s because I didn’t lose them.”
Huh? “So someone is stealing your keys and dropping them at the grocery store? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Because that’s not what’s happening.”
He adds a gallon of milk and Greek yogurt to the basket. I toss a package of imitation cheese slices into the mix.
“I’m trying really hard to follow you on this, but I’m lost,” I say. “Your keys have been coming up all over town, but you aren’t losing them, and no one is stealing them. What am I missing?”