I squeal in appropriate inside-voice terror until a butterflied hand extends over my shoulder and grabs a box of shredded wheat. My eyes track the box all the way into the empty shopping basket hanging beside Will’s leg.
“What are you doing here?” I sound accusatory only because I wasn’t expecting him, and I need a full five minutes to prepare for his company before I see him. You know, mentally gird my loins and all that.
He cocks his head. “Well, this activity is most widely understood as grocery shopping,” he says, lifting the basket as evidence.
I frown down into his basket instead of acknowledging his sarcastic remark because he has selected the single worst type of cereal, and I can’t allow him to continue living his life in such a depressing way. I remove his choice, put it back on the shelf, and place a box of Fruit Crunch in his basket.
“What I mean, Wilbur, is what are you doing here shopping in the middle of the day?”
He pulls the shredded wheat from the shelf again and puts it in my basket this time, looking down at me with playful indulgence. “You need fiber, Annie Walker.”
“You came all the way to town today because you had a strong suspicion my fiber intake was low?”
“All the way to town, yes.” He grins lazily and I realize there’s nothing quite like the sound of this man’s voice when he’s teasing.
And mother of pearl, he looks great today. His deep green T-shirt stretches across his shoulders in a way that gives me the urge to lightly sink my teeth right there on the rounded curve of his muscle. What kind of unhinged thought is that? Another reason to place Will in the not-for-me category. He disturbs the status quo of my sanity.
And although the black cargo joggers he’s wearing do him all kinds of favors, it’s those tattoos that are steering me down the path of no return. I trace the lines of the flowers and vines until they disappear under the sleeve of his shirt, and that’s when I feel irrationally angry because I have no idea where they end. Do they extend over his shoulder? Down his back? Over his chest?
I’ll never know, and it’s that thought that has me turning away from him feeling frustrated.
He catches up to me quickly. “Are you on your lunch break?”
“Yep. Mondays are my day to visit my grandma, so Jeanine works the shop for me for the second half of the day while I cut out a little early to do my grocery shopping, grab my grandma a box of her favorite vanilla wafers, and then head over to the assisted-living center to check on her.”
Why did I tell him all of that? He only asked if I was on my lunch break, and here I go sharing my entire schedule. Clearly my social skills are worse than I thought. Any second now he’ll smile pleasantly and then turn away. He’ll put a sticky note on my front door saying: Can’t help with lessons anymore. You bore me.
Will walks beside me. “How’s she doing?”
“Um—okay. She has Alzheimer’s, you know? So she has good days and bad. But overall she’s always declining. It’ll be like that from now on.” I stop in front of the oral hygiene section and stare blankly at the boxes as an unexpected wave of grief envelops me. I don’t often let myself think about the true state of her health—that one day the woman who raised me will be gone. It’s gut-wrenching.
“That sounds really tough,” he says gently, his body nearer to mine than a moment ago, like he wants to comfort me but doesn’t know how. I look up at him, and his warm gaze does nothing to help the sudden building emotion behind my eyes.
I blink and reach for a box of toothpaste and dump it into my basket. “It’s all right. I just enjoy the moments I have with her now,” I say, strong-arming those bad feelings out of the way. Feeling them doesn’t help anything. It doesn’t make her disease go away. It doesn’t bring back my parents. It’s easiest to not pay attention to them.
Will seems to want to say more but grabs the same brand of toothpaste as I did and puts it into his basket instead. He then selects a box of denture cleaner and drops it into mine before walking away.
I quickly replace it on the shelf and catch up to him. “Your turn. Why are you shopping in the middle of the day?”
He cuts a quick glance at me over his shoulder and slows his pace so I can catch up. “Amelia is in the studio, so I had some free time. Thought it would be the perfect moment to bless Harriet with my presence.”
We both round the aisle, and at that very moment we intercept Harriet’s cold glare aimed at Will. He smiles at her. “Looking beautiful today, Harriet!” he says, making her scowl harden.
“See. She loves me,” he says through his pearly white teeth.
I laugh and steer us down the next aisle, knowing that Harriet not only doesn’t love Will but openly dislikes him. Could that be part of my draw to him? I’ve seen the movies. Good girl gravitates toward bad boy because she can’t be bad herself?
That’s the easiest explanation, so I’ll go with it and ignore the quieter voice in my head that says I feel a connection to Will.
We pass a feminine hygiene section, and I grab a pack of overnight pads, bank-shotting them into his basket before walking the other way and trying not to laugh at the flat look on his face. With a devious smile, I round the corner, and when Will meets me halfway down the next aisle, the pads are nowhere in sight.
I face the snack section and try to decide between spicy or cheesy chips.
He stands shoulder to shoulder with me, and we look like we’re lined up for a general’s inspection. I cut my eyes to him and try not to grin when I see he’s doing the same. And then he tilts toward me. “By the way, I finished the book.”
Shock whips through me, and I drop the bag of Lay’s I was holding.
Will casually and softly sets a box of Imodium in my basket and strolls away.
Embarrassment, horror, and curiosity all war inside me. Ever since I handed the book over to him in the flower shop and watched his eyebrows shoot up at the sight of a scantily clad woman draped over a well-muscled half-naked man, I’ve been dying a slow death of dread. And now I know—Will Griffin read my steamy romance novel. Suddenly an image of Will lying shirtless in bed reading some of those incredibly sexy scenes has my skin boiling. I don’t think I want to know whether he liked it or not.
Wait, yes I do.
No, I absolutely don’t.
I catch Will on the next aisle. “What did you think of it?”
Okay, apparently I do.
My heart races as I wait to hear his answer. I try not to get my hopes up because I know that most likely he hated it. In fact, I’m prepared for ridicule and teasing for the rest of his time in Rome.
I’m not prepared for his slow melting smile. Like he’s reenacting for me the look he had on his face while he read. “Honestly, I couldn’t put it down. I stayed in all day yesterday just reading.”
I pull in a deep happy breath through my nose. I would bounce on the balls of my feet if I didn’t think it would make me look childish. “Are you serious?”
We’re not the only shoppers in here today, and a woman I’ve definitely seen before whose name I can’t remember starts down our aisle. Will steps closer to me to avoid her, and his chest presses against the side of my body. Fire sweeps me. I can barely think straight when I feel his breath against my temple. “It was sexy as hell.”
I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead on the loaves of honey wheat bread because if I look at Will right now, my skin will melt clean off my body. How dare he talk to me like that! Like…like I’ve always secretly dreamed of someone talking to me.
The woman passes and Will steps back again, taking a loaf of bread with him. “But it was also a lot of fun. There was more adventure than I expected. And there were a lot of profound moments too. Felt like free therapy.”
“Right?!” I say, turning to look at him and feeling absurdly pleased that he read the book and not only liked it but connected to it. “What was your favorite scene?” I reach into my basket and move the diarrhea medication to his instead.
“The fight sequence on the boat was pretty awesome.”
I grin and narrow my eyes. “What was your favorite scene, Will?”
He steps a little closer, a taunting look in his eyes. “The scene in the pub?”
“William,” I chide gently, knowing full well his favorite scene was the one with the ladder. I absolutely should not be trying to get him to mention it—but I can’t help it. Something about Will brings out a different side of me.
The air between us grows arms, reaching out to grab the fronts of our shirts and tug us closer until we’re so close that our baskets fit together side by side. Grocery basket Tetris. I catch a glimmer in Will’s eyes and the corner of his mouth tugs.
“You wouldn’t be trying to lure me into inappropriate conversation, would you, Angel Annie?”
In an instant, any playfulness I feel dies away with that awful nickname. It’s one thing when everyone else calls me that or taunts me with it—but from Will I can’t stand it.
“Don’t call me that, please,” I say, allowing myself a rare moment of honesty. “I don’t like it.”
I’m not looking at Will, but I can still feel his gaze. And then I can feel his fingers lightly clasp my elbow as if he were afraid I was about to drift off, and he needed to keep me there beside him. “Annie. I’m sorry.” His voice is low and genuine. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way.”
I force a smile and look up at him. “I know. No one ever does when they call me by those names. And I’ve heard them all: Saint Annie, Angel Annie, Goody-goody Annie. It’s never meant in a bad way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a negative connotation when they say it.” I shrug slightly like it’s no big deal, even though…I guess it is kind of a big deal to me. “It feels like they’re saying I don’t have as much substance as everyone else. That because I’m sweet, I don’t have as much to offer. I constantly feel underestimated, and I’m so tired of it.”
Will’s thumb glides tenderly against my skin. His voice drops until it’s intimately quiet. “I won’t do it again.”
I breathe out. How was that so easy? I’ve always had trouble telling people the truth of what I’m feeling when I know it’s going to be uncomfortable for them to hear—so I usually just keep it bottled up. But I want Will to know what’s actually happening beneath the surface. Maybe it’s just because I know there’s no real threat to a relationship that doesn’t exist in any permanent way with him?
“Thank you.” My eyes shift to Will’s mouth, and that’s when I realize we’re standing inappropriately close for two friends in a grocery store. I smile and pull away to continue my shopping.
Will trails behind me. “I can relate, though.”
This makes me laugh. “You can relate to being seen as too sweet?”
“Well, no. But to being underestimated.”
“How so?” I say, looking back at him and enjoying our joint shopping excursion way too much.
Will shrugs. “Usually people see the tattoos and the videos of me forcefully removing an aggressive fan from a situation, or that damn BuzzFeed article, and they think they know me. They assume I’m nothing but a fu—” he catches himself and grins before amending, “a player who probably didn’t finish high school.”
I can see that—not that I’ve ever thought that about him, but other people might. It’s evident by the way Harriet is now lurking around the store and popping her suspicious eyes through every peephole like she expects to find Will slipping merchandise into his pocket at any second. Or better yet, like he’s going to throw me over his shoulder and steal me—the sweet town golden girl—away into the night where he’d lay me down in a bed of wildflowers and make love to me until—
Oh wait, huh? That’s not what we were talking about.
I adjust my shopping basket onto my forearm and shift a box of crackers on the shelf, closing off Harriet’s view. “So what is the truth about the illusive Will Griffin then?”
“Really nothing special.” He walks to a new corner of the store and this time I trail behind him. “Grew up in a cave in Alaska. Was raised by a pack of wolves. You know? The standard.”
I groan. “Oh come on.”
He spins around at the end of the aisle with a smoldering grin. “Winters were cold, but I learned to get by after killing bears with my teeth and wearing their fur on my back.”
I shove him while laughing. “Terrible. Does PETA know about you?”
His face grows too serious to be genuine. “It’s really rude to laugh at someone’s childhood, Annie. Have a little compassion.”
My face hurts from smiling so much. “All right, Wolf Boy. If you’re not going to tell me the truth, I have to check out now.” But as I pass by Will, his hand shoots out and lightly catches mine. A hot zing shoots through my fingers all the way to the pit of my stomach. When I look at him, I’m afraid he can see in my eyes just how affected I am by his touch.
“I did finish high school, for the record. With a 4.0 GPA, and then I joined the Air Force afterward and served as a Security Forces specialist because I couldn’t stand the thought of going to college and continuing on with my miserable existence as an achievement-seeking perfectionist.”
“I see,” I whisper, trying to absorb all of that rapid-fire information coming at me. But my knees keep nearly buckling at the mental image of this man in uniform. How commanding he must have looked. How…is mouthwateringly delicious fair to say?
Will continues before I can say anything I’ll regret.
“And my favorite moment in the book was absolutely the ladder scene.” He pauses briefly. “I’m willing to bet all of my money it was yours too.” My heart thumps painfully at the nearly wicked look in his eyes as he accurately reads my thoughts.
“How would you know that?” No one else in the world would ever suspect my favorite scene was the steamiest one in the book, but Will does because for some reason, he doesn’t see me quite like everyone else does. In fact, no one else would even guess I like these kinds of books. It’s a secret not even my sisters know because I’ve kept my box of romance novels neatly tucked under my bed, out of sight for years.
And yes, I realize that I’m supposed to be loud and proud about my romance-reading ways, but when you’ve grown up with siblings like mine and those siblings have given you the nickname of Angel Annie and would absolutely roast you every single day for the rest of your life if they knew you loved steamy books with Big Duke Energy, you’d hide the book under your pillow too. This is a secret (along with the box of romance books under my bed) I will take to my death. If anyone ever robs my grave, they’ll be shocked to find me blanketed with shirtless pirates fiercely embracing a lady in a gown that is not even remotely accurate for the era of the book.
But now Will knows my deep dark secret. My body heats up at the thought.
His eyes hold mine. “Because contrary to what everyone seems to say about you, I can see a mischievous spark behind your soft blue eyes, Annie Walker.”
Will’s eyes drop to my lips, and I’m speechless for three heartbeats. Desire fills the air like smoke—thick and heavy—making it difficult to breathe.
“But…you won’t tell anyone, right?” I ask quietly, making Will’s gaze rise up to my eyes again. “Not even about our lessons? I don’t want my siblings to know.”
“Why can’t they know?”
I glance down. “They’ll…they just can’t.” I shake my head. “If they find out, they’ll be full of opinions and suggestions that I don’t necessarily want.” I can hear Emily now—initiating twenty questions until she knows every detail of what I’m planning and suggesting a better way to go about it until I end up caving and doing things her way so that I don’t hurt her feelings. And Maddie will demand to take over as my tutor, and somehow I’ll fall right into the shadows as I always do when my siblings are around.
I look up into Will’s eyes and nearly flinch at how unwavering his gaze is. He’s waiting for me to say more. “I just want to do something for myself for a while—is that bad? It feels wrong.”
“I don’t think it’s wrong, but then I’m an innately selfish person, so maybe I’m not the best person to be asking.”
“You don’t seem selfish to me.”
His fingers tighten ever so slightly around mine and his expression looks almost desperate. “Annie, I need you to know that I don’t do relationships. Ever. And I never will. If we do these lessons you want, they will be as friends and nothing else.”
His words shouldn’t sting. I already know this about him, and I also know that I’m looking for a man completely opposite from him. And yet I feel them like shards of glass. He can’t know that, though.
I lean in even closer. “And I only do relationships. So we’re in perfect agreement.”
His eyes search mine. “So…friends only?”
“Friends only.”
“Great. Then we can start lessons tonight if you’re available.”
It takes all my self-control to not audibly gulp. And because I don’t trust my voice, I simply nod.
I don’t miss the moment his thumb glides over the skin of my hand before he releases it. “I’ll sneak you into my room. Around six thirty?” I barely register that he tosses a little box into my basket because I’m too busy internally panicking over his last statement.
“But how?” I ask while fast-walking down the aisle to catch up to him. “How will you sneak me in? This town has eyes everywhere.”
“Just wait outside the inn for my cue.” Will doesn’t glance back at me. He sets his basket down and leaves the market.
I look down and realize his basket is now empty.
Did he only come in here to talk to me?
At the checkout counter, I set my basket down and begin pulling out items for Harriet to scan. And too late I realize I’m holding, courtesy of Will Griffin, a box of condoms—ribbed for her pleasure.
With burning cheeks, I look up directly into the scowling face of Harriet. This is why my sisters buy all of their intimate items on Amazon.
“You watch yourself with that boy, Annie. He’s no good for you and definitely not the kind of man you need in your life.”
I turn to the window just in time to see Will laughing and walking away from the market—so proud of himself and his prank.
I think Harriet’s right. Will Griffin is absolutely not the kind of man I need.
Too bad he’s very quickly becoming the man I want.
