Page 13 of Wrecked

Chapter 5 – Sam

As we navigate the crowded streets of Chicago, I find myself preoccupied with watching Cooper’s hands on the steering wheel. Even his hands are sexy as hell, roughened and tan. There’s a smattering of dark hair on the backs of his hands. His fingers are long, the nails clean and blunt. His strong forearms are sexy, with visible veins and more of that dark hair.

He steers with his right hand, and his left rests on his thigh. He drives with a casual confidence that turns me on.

I know I’m being ridiculous for mooning over him. He’s a co-worker, for God’s sake. Hooking up with a co-worker is never a good idea. And, he’s a superior. If I remember what I read on the company website correctly, Cooper and Shane started the company together after getting out of the military. It’d probably be against some federal law if I hooked up with him.

It’s not a far drive to this grocery store of his. Cooper pulls into the lot and parks far from the entrance. It looks like we’re getting our steps in.

Without saying a word, we exit the vehicle, and as we’re walking toward the building, he snags an empty shopping cart for me. And damn, if that’s not sexy as well.

I reach for the handle, thinking I should at least push the cart.

“It’s all right,” he says. “I’ve got the buggy. So, what do you need?”Buggy.He’s definitely from the South.

“A little bit of everything, I guess. Food, pop, beer, paper towels, toilet paper. The essentials. Ice cream.”

“Ice cream is an essential?”

“Yes.”

“Do you cook?” he asks.

“Not unless I have to.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

I shrug. “It’s too much effort for just one.”

He bites back a grin. “What do you eat then, if you don’t cook? Do you forage outside for nuts and berries?”

I try not to laugh, but it’s hard. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. “I eat a lot of fast food, canned stuff, microwavable meals.” I shrug. “Sandwiches. You know. Stuff that doesn’t require much preparation, if any.”

“Your mama didn’t teach you how to cook?”

I bristle at that. “She didn’t have time. She worked tons of overtime just to keep food in the house. My sister and I mostly fended for ourselves.”

“Can you at least do your own laundry?”

“Yes. I learned that in the military.” And that reminds me. “I’ll need laundry detergent.”

His grin widens. “You think so?” He shakes his head. “All right, let’s do this systematically. Follow me.”

Cooper proceeds to lead me through the grocery store, aisle by aisle, pushing the cart as I grab what I need—everything from canned soup to paper towels. He refrains from commenting when I buy several cans of chili and minestrone, packages of microwaveable ravioli and beef stew. Macaroni in a box. I pick up dairy items like milk and butter and sour cream. In the next aisle, beer and pop. In the next, shampoo and laundry detergent. In the frozen section, I grab two kinds of ice cream and some frozen breakfast sandwiches.

He frowns at the last item. “You know it takes less than five minutes to cook some eggs and pop a slice of bread in the toaster.”

“This is quicker.”

He draws the line when I pick up a package of chocolate chip cookies. He snatches them out of my hands and puts them back on the shelf. “Those taste like cardboard. I’ll make you some.”

I suppress a smile. This means, assuming he keeps his word, I’ll be seeing him again soon.

Next, we come to the meat department. I grab a couple packages of ground beef. “I do like to grill burgers.”

“You got plans for dinner tonight?” he asks offhandedly, not even bothering to look at me.

His question takes me by surprise. “No.”