“I need to eat,” he grits out.
Not intimidated, I face him with arms crossed over my chest. “You don’t need a trillion dollars’ worth of meat.”
If he keeps lifting his right eyebrow imperiously like that, I swear I’m going to shave it off while he sleeps. Either that, or I’ll slap it clean off his beautiful face. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Really? Okay. I assume you can do fundamental math, right?” At his sour face over my sarcasm, I nod at the cart containing much of the meat I haven’t put back yet. “Add up those prices, my dude.”
He waits a hot minute before stalking over to the cart. Bent over, moving things around, he picks through the items, and when he’s done, straightens and turns back to me. “How do you people survive here?”
“Barely.”
He puts most of the meat back. “I’ll do a job.”
With a roll of my eyes, I lift on my tiptoes to say in his ear, “You can’t exactly do a job search for ‘assassin.’”
His hand lands on the small of my back, forcing me to suck in a breath at his touch. “You smell nice.”
“So do you,” I whisper.
“You tasted good when I kissed you.”
I haven’t been complimented much, but even if I had, that one is a doozy for sure. “Thank you.”
Rhys leans away to search my face as if we’re not standing in the butcher department surrounded by people who are openly gawking at us. “I’m going to kiss you again, Charlotte. Every-fucking-where.”
Oh, God…
“Rhys.”
I’ve read countless books where a male character’s eyes darken. Never thought I’d see it in real life.Wow. Like, holy shit. Rhys’s eyes are bedroom-y, hooded, grave. A mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “If we were alone right now, I’d tear you apart.” I know I’m in trouble in the very best of ways.
Rhys pushes me away, and I swear to God, I feel the flush throughout every part of my body. Suddenly, my clothes are too close to my skin. I’m too empty. Hollow. I want to jump this man’s bones right here against the meat refrigerator, and what’s worse is that he knows it.
But what does the cruel bastard do now that he’s got me all worked up?
He goes right on shopping like he didn’t light my fuse just to watch it burn.
After causing quite the scandal, we head back to finish grabbing what we need, with me checking in with Brooklyn. Along with being my best—and only—friend, she also works at The Scorched Page. She’s a lively twenty-six, hilarious, and, like me, loves everything about romance novels.
Everything at the shop is running smoothly, and everything between Rhys and me is going well. Until we get to the checkout line, and he notices the handsome male clerk looking at me a tad too long.
Fuck me.
“Eyeballs are a hell of a thing,” Rhys says, too calmly, too conversationally, the words chillier than the air conditioning blasting throughout the store.
“Rhys,” I warn.
The young guy flicks a nervous gaze from me to Rhys before suddenly finding our groceries far more interesting than our faces. His hands tremble as he grabs the items from the belt and quickly slides them across the scanner.
“All I’m saying is that it would be tragic if someone among the three of us, who aren’t you or me, suffered a horrific accident that involved losing one—or both—of his eyeballs.” Rhys glares at the poor clerk, who is damn near about to piss himself over the not-so-thinly veiled threat. “Stranger things have happened, Charlotte.”
“Not here, they don’t,” I grind out through gritted teeth. “Bag the groceries, please,” I say to Rhys to misdirect his attention. But he stands there staring at me like I spoke an alien language. In a huff, I grab one of the reusable bags from the bunch webrought in from the car before snatching up a bushel of fresh broccoli. As I toss the vegetables in the bag, I snap, “Holy shit, Rhys, like this. It’s not rocket science.”
He grabs a bag and begins loading it with groceries. “Do you often strive to make a person feel foolish when explaining a new task to them?”
If he pulled out a gun and shot me square in the chest, it’d hurt less than that admonishment. Because he’s right, and I’m acting like an asshole toward him because I’m still riled over him getting me hot and bothered in the meat department. This man is…new. He was dropped into this world to live amongactualhuman people. Being here must be a thousand times more of a shock to his system than his being here is to mine. At least I don’t have to learn how to navigate everyday tasks people take for granted.
Like bagging groceries.
