I cracked a smile at the children's song reference.
When I finished ringing everything up and told him the amount, I thought he might wince. He just handed over a gold credit card for me to swipe.
When I handed him the receipt, he reached out. Instead of taking the receipt, he took my hand. I inhaled sharply as a tingle went through my entire body, from the tips of my fingers, down to my toes, and straight into my very bones.
"Why'd you walk out on me?" he asked.
My eyes jumped to his. He was staring at me. His fingertips rested against my inner wrist. Could he feel my pulse through the thin skin? Could he tell how fast my heart was beating?
"Why would I have stayed?" I asked.
"I could have made you bacon and eggs this morning." He offered with a languid smile.
I looked down at our conjoined hands. His large, warm palm engulfed mine.
"I didn't think rock stars did the morning-after-breakfast thing—"
I stumbled over the end of that sentence as his thumb stroked back and forth along my wrist. Every swipe sent my thoughts scattering. My lips parted, but sounds wouldn't come.
He picked up the heavy shopping bags in both hands and turned to leave. Just before exiting, he turned back and threw me a wink.
"If you had stayed, maybe you would have found out."
