He pushed his hands into her hair and kissed her.
He...They...
His mouth was gentle and conquering at the same time. He smelled like an Australian summer, and he kissed the way a maestro leads an orchestra. Her brain cartwheeled with surprised joy. She placed her palms on his chest and felt his heat and taut strength.
The kiss tasted like destiny ... as if she’d been waiting, without knowing she’d been waiting. For him. For this. It felt more right than anything had felt in forever and a day.
Her body soared to life—
A deep, rusty chuckle intruded on her bliss.
She and Sam stepped apart, looking to the source of the sound.
An eighty-something-year-old man smiled at them good-naturedly, furrows creasing his skin. “I’m laughing at myself, not you, because see, if I didn’t depend so much on my coffee, I would’ve turned right around when I saw you two and gone a different direction. But I depend on my coffee something terrible. Please excuse the interruption.”
“No.” A blush rolled up her cheeks. “Please excuseus.”
She and Sam moved away from one another to give him access, Sam on one side of the gentleman and she on the other.
The older man poured beans into a brown sack. “I sure do love my vanilla-flavored French roast. I’m very loyal to it.” He dumped the beans into the grinder, positioned his sack below the chute, and flicked the machine on.
Bravely, she glanced at Sam. He stared back, his eyes unusually bright. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked painfully irresistible.
Her focus skittered back to the coffee grinder. The delicious scent of vanilla coffee beans enveloped her. “I’ll need to get myself some of that flavor,” she said, meaning it. If that vanilla coffee could keep the sensory details of their kiss alive in her memory, she’d drink five cups of it a day.
“I recommend it,” the gentleman said. “I surely do.” The grinder finished its job. The crinkling sound his bag made as he folded it seemed deafening. He raised his face to Sam. “How about those Falcons?”
Genevieve curbed the urge to release a peal of hysterical laughter.
“They’re off to a good start,” Sam answered.
“Defense wins games,” the gentleman said.
“Yep.”
“And now I’ll let you two pick up where you left off.” He pushed his cart, one wheel wobbling madly, away from them. “God bless y’all.”
“God bless you,” Sam and Genevieve said in unison. They watched until he vanished.
“Lovely man,” Genevieve whispered.
“Lovely.”
Needing to collect her composure, she followed the same steps—sack, coffee beans, grinder—the gentleman had just performed. “Can’t wait to try this coffee.”
“Is this your way of avoiding me?”
“Too right,” she said merrily, borrowing one of the Aussie sayings she’d heard him use a couple of times.
Oh dear. She really liked him. Which was wonderful. Which was dismaying. He’d kissed her this time. Hadn’t he? Yes. He’d very definitely kissed her. Yet, she was still concerned that he was about to lay down some somber pronouncements like he’d done after their last kiss.
She deposited the bag of coffee in her basket alongside several items she did not recall selecting. What on earth was she going to do with fruit, vegetables, and coconut milk? She cleared her throat, busying herself a moment by rearranging the food in her basket, before returning her gaze to him.
“It would be best for you not to get involved with me,” he said gravely. “I don’t have anything to offer you.”
She sensed that the serious approach was not the approach to take at this juncture with this serious man. “I don’t know about that.” She smiled. “Men who’ve just done half a woman’s grocery shopping can’t claim that they don’t have anything to offer.”
“Is that so?”
