“Says you. I love it. So do most of your family.”
“It speaks of my love for you that I’m willing to kiss youafteryou consume it.”
She snorted. “You’re so melodramatic. We both know you’ll do anything for a kiss.”
“Do you hate it when I drink vodka?”
“Thank God the Irish in you won’t let you drink it all that often.” She bobbed her head double-time. “Vile stuff. And no, actually, soup hater?—”
“Don’t pout. I eat all the other soups you put in front of me.”
“You’re oddly critical about my soups.” Her pout became more defined.
“Well, you know I can?—”
“Yes, yes. Only eat it with my bread.”
“What can I say? I have standards.”
A smile danced over her mouth, making the corners of her eyes crinkle, and after checking that Jake was occupied with his cartoon and the toy dinosaurs he’d brought with us, seeing as I refused to treat the cart like a McLaren F1 car, I quickly leaned down and kissed her. Because her lips parted, I accepted the invitation and thrust my tongue against hers.
The soft moan she released had me stepping closer so I could slide my arms around her waist.
Her softness, as always, welcomed me home. I took a moment to indulge in her curves, then I teased her by nipping her bottom lip before laving it with my tongue.
When she hummed in delight, I tightened my hold around her as I?—
“Excuse me! This is a grocery store. Thatcannotbe sanitary.”
Tension filled Aoife at the criticism, but I didn’t let it bother me. I finished the kiss… slowly, softly. Just long enough to hear a disgusted huff.
Straightening and taking note of Aoife’s bright red cheeks, I narrowed my eyes at the other woman who stood there, glued in place like she couldn’t have easily walked past us, toe tapping against the floor.
Some people have to choose drama every time.
“If you haven’t been kissed since the Reagan administration, just say so, ma’am.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“No need to beg. I pardon you. Willingly. If you’ll stop being the Grinch—that’s the green, furry guy you see everywhere this time of the year—I can practice forgiveness.”
“The nerve of?—”
“I have plenty of nerve.” I shot her my most charming smile. “But they’re being worn thin by you. Now, you didn’t have to interrupt an intimate moment between husband and wife. You didn’t have to step outside today andchooseto be a cunt, but here we are.” She blanched. “So, you toddle off to whatever cave you came from, and I’ll let you without bringing down the manager.”
“I’m the one who’ll visit the manager, young man!”
“Please do.”
With a huff, the woman spun on her heel and stalked off. Her cane clacked with every step she took as she abandoned her cart in the center of the aisle.
Aoife burst out, “But?—”
I lifted a hand. “No, Aoife.”
Her lips pursed. “You do know she was wearing Chanel shoes?”
“Do I look like I give a damn?”
