“Yes, and we’ll come back for meal ingredients. But what kinds of basics do you like to keep stocked for snacks, breakfast, lunch… that type of thing?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m pretty low maintenance.”
He cuts me a side glance. “Says the girl who only gives bananas a two-day window.”
“Hey.” I turn and point my finger toward him. “My points are valid. And whatever you normally get is fine. I’ll eat anything.” Miles furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak. I cut him off. “Okay, most things.” I laugh.
“If you leave it up to me, we’re going to end up with six boxes of toaster pastries.”
“That is not true. I’ve been out to eat with you dozens of times. You are not a toaster pastry kind of guy.”
“Okay, we have to make this quick, or we’re going to miss the movie. We’ll hurry down every aisle in this place, and each of us is required to pick up two items from each aisle. Got it? We’ll meal plan another day and come back later.”
I bounce up on my toes. “Oh, it can be like those supermarket game shows where we race down the aisles and throw things into the cart.”
“What’s the objective of the game shows? Do they have a list, or are they trying to hit a specific threshold or something?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I usually watch them on mute while I’m working. It’s just fun to see them race around the store all crazy.”
Miles laughs. “Okay, we’ll go as fast as we can without running into anyone. Grab two things each from every aisle and race to check out. That’s the objective.”
“Deal.” I nod.
“Ready. Set. Go.”
Cognizant of those around us, we unfortunately can’t run, but we do a good job of speed walking through the place, each tossing items into the cart as we hurry down each aisle. Mere minutes later, we’re in line to check out. A little winded, we laugh, catching our breath.
“That is the only way to grocery shop,” Miles says through a chuckle.
“Agreed.” I start placing the items on the belt for checkout.
He snatches a small container from the cart. “What the hell is this, Miranda?” Amusement lines his features. “You gonna snack on dried tarragon?”
I grab the small spice bottle from him and put it on the belt for checkout. “It was the baking aisle. I was rushed. There wasn’t much to choose from.”
“What was your second item?” He looks into the cart and pulls out a bottle of grapeseed oil. “Seriously?” He holds the bottle of oil out in front of me. “I can’t wait to see what you’re going to make with grapeseed oil and tarragon.”
I place my hands on my hips. “What did you pick up from the baking aisle?”
He tosses a box of chocolate pudding mix and a bag of almonds onto the belt. “Oh, I don’t know. Two things that make delicious snacks. Nuts and pudding.”
“I was pressured for time,” I say as an excuse, pouting my lips.
“You would not hold up in the grocery store show. I don’t know what the rules are, but I’m pretty sure they’re not ‘pick up random crap you’ll never use.’”
“You don’t know that. Very well could be. They do have quite an assortment of weird stuff in their cart when they’re done. And I will use them. You’ll see.”
Note to self: look up recipes containing tarragon and grapeseed oil.
We check out and carry our bags of snacks—some more edible than others—to the truck, still laughing at the experience.
“We should always shop like that,” Miles states, putting the bags into the back seat.
“It might be hard if we actually follow recipes and eat good food.”
“Oh, unlike bottles of random spices?” He quirks a brow and climbs into the driver’s seat.
I shoot him a mock glare. “I’m going to make something incredible with that tarragon. Just you wait.”
