Then we hear the slam. Buck’s hand cracking against the bar top so loud it makes the whole store flinch.
“That’s because you’re a demon!” Buck bellows. “Now listen here, woman, I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Sherry screeches.
Crash.The sharp sound of glass shattering ricochets through the store.I whip around to see Sherry hurling bottles off a nearby display like she’s in the final round of a demolition derby.Another crash And another.
“Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath, clutching the shopping basket like a shield. “We have to hurry.”
Liam is grinning, his whole face lit up like this is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all year.
“Quick,” he says, voice low and laughing, “get the lettuce. I'll get the wine. We'll meet at the register and pray we don't get caught in the crossfire.”
And somehow, through the yelling and the chaos, our hands brush again as we split up, and it feels exactly like the start of something wild and unstoppable.
We move fast. Liam grabbing the last of the groceries while I speed-walk to the register, weaving between shelves like we’re contestants on a game show. Behind us, anothercrashechoes through the store, followed by a colorful string of language that would make a sailor blush.
I reach the checkout counter first, dumping the basket onto the belt just as the poor cashier, a kid who looks about twelve even though I know he’s closer to twenty, is definitely rethinking his life choices, gives me a wide-eyed, panicked look.
“Rough day?” I say sympathetically, loading cans onto the conveyor.
The kid just nods, robotically scanning items while keeping one terrified eye on the melee behind me. Liam skids up a second later, dumping an armload of items into the mix.
“Go, go, go,” he stage-whispers like we’re making a prison break.
We both fumble for our wallets at the same time, our fingers bumping, and it would be cute if it wasn’t for thethudthat shakes the wall behind us.
“I’m filing for divorce!” Sherry shrieks somewhere near the frozen foods.
“Please do,” Buck growls.
I shove a credit card at the cashier, who looks like he’s about to either cry or sprint out the back door.
Liam grabs the bags as soon as they’re packed, practically throwing one over his shoulder like a sack of feed.
“Move!” he laughs under his breath.
We sprint toward the exit, dodging a flying salt shaker that Sherry hurls past Buck’s head.
Just as we burst through the doors, Liam holds it open with a theatrical bow. “After you, honey.”
I duck under his arm, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. By the time we make it back to the truck, we’re breathless and soaked in misty rain, clutching the groceries like trophies. Inside the cab, Liam slams the door shut, then turns to me with a grin so wide and boyish it nearly floors me.
“Well,” he says, catching his breath. “That’s one hell of a second date story.”
I laugh, cheeks aching, heart hammering for a million reasons that have nothing to do with flying salt shakers.
“Third date’s going to have a hard time topping it,” I tease.
He flashes me a look full of heat and something deeper and says, “Guess we better make it a good one, then.” Then he grins, nudging my shoulder lightly. “Now tell me what in the hell that was all about.”
I laugh shakily, the remnants of adrenaline still humming in my veins. “Let’s do it over food. I’m starved after all that drama and Lura’s making chicken fried chicken for lunch.”
His eyes light up. “Say less,” he says, tossing the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking spot, heading down the familiar stretch toward the café.
But the second we round the corner and Lura’s Porch comes into view, everything inside me stills.
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
