She stopped for one of only three traffic lights in town. “That sucks. So, this wasn’t your first injury?”
“It was but when I was in the hospital, they pulled my medical record. In addition to the head injury I got from the explosion, they discovered all the fucking concussions I’d got playing football.”
“Oh.” She switched the blinker on and pulled into the City Market parking lot. “Yeah, that pretty much sucks.”
He liked that. He liked that she didn’t try to console him by listing all the other things he could do with his life. Or that he should be grateful to be alive. He’d spent his entire life wanting to be a pilot, God damnit!
Chaz swallowed hard. He hated thinking about not flying again. Let alone talking about it.
She parked, cut the engine, and then didn’t move. She just stared at the steering wheel. “You think you have your whole life figured out, and somehow it just falls apart.”
He watched her profile. Here was a woman with a past. And then she blinked a few times and twisted her lips into something that was probably supposed to be a smile. A little robot-like, she turned and unclasped both their seatbelts. “Don’t move, I’ll come around.”
A few seconds later, she pulled the door open and then reached in to help him out.
“I hate this,” he mumbled. Except he didn’t hate her touching him. He hated that he was injured. He hated that he’d had to come and stay at his parents’ house. It made him feel so fucking helpless.
“You okay?” She steadied him as he stood up. “You don’t think walking around the store might be too much?”
Chaz shook his head. Fuck! He felt lightheaded and stupidly weak. Next thing he knew, he’d be bursting into tears.
“I’m fine.” But his voice sounded gruff.
He forced himself to stand up straight and take long strides into the store. She grabbed a basket that had been abandoned outside and glanced sideways at him. “You sure you’re up to this? You can wait in the car if you want. I’ll get the milk.”
The idea sounded good in theory. But he liked being around her. He’d pushed himself through worse than this. “I’m good.” Placing his left hand on her back, he steered her through the door.
She shivered.
He liked walking behind her, guiding her with his hand. He also would have liked to bend her over the shopping cart and press up behind her.
“What’s on your list?” he asked near her ear. “Other than milk.”
She shivered again. The testosterone in him picked up every signal she sent out.
It was obvious.
She needed to get laid. Preferably by him.
She paused as though suddenly confused about where she was, about where she was going.
Chaz took one step closer. His left hand slid around her waistband and landed on her stomach.
“Um, Chaz.” She dropped her hand over his and pushed it away. “You’re a really sweet kid, and all that, really cute.” She pushed the cart forward, forcing some distance between the two of them. “But I am way too old for you.”
He caught up easily.
“How old is too old?” he probed. This wasn’t anywhere near a problem for him.
“Thirty-six. Ancient. How old are you? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
“Hah, twenty-seven, nearly thirty.” She turned and headed toward the frozen foods.
He followed, allowing her a little space this time. He nearly chuckled at himself. The last time he’d rounded up his age to sound older he’d been fifteen.
“A decade. An entire decade.” She stopped in front of the Lean Cuisine and Weight Watchers dinners. Opening the freezer door, she reached in and picked out two lasagna dinners, two spaghetti dinners, and two chicken fettuccine and tossed them all in the basket.
Chaz flinched at the thought of all the preservatives she was going to consume.
