CHAPTER 1
Brooke stared at the package of hot French bread. A minute ticked by, then two. Did she dare purchase the loaf? She pinched the sleeve of it, and the plastic window on the package crinkled under her fingertips. Then the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread hit her nostrils. She salivated. Ugh, she wanted the bread more than anything. But if she knew anything about carbs, it was that, magically, no amount of cardio could offset eating it.
Another minute passed, and Brooke’s gaze remained glued. If she bought the loaf, she was eating the whole thing, game over. She inhaled another whiff of the warm, carb-loaded goodness. Gosh, she imagined how good it tasted. The melt in your mouth, eat until your stomach aches kind of deliciousness. Best part, this particular bag of joy would only set her back a mere three bucks. But the echo of her mother’s old saying, ‘a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips’ vibrated in her psyche again and again, back and forth, like she was on a child’s teeter-totter.
But breakup calories did not count, right?
It was practically written in stone.
A perfectly formed forearm came around her shoulder and snatched a packet of the French bread. After all, she was being an aisle hog.
“Just buy it.” He tossed the sleeve of bread into his hand-held basket like any man would. No thoughts about how it might make them bloat or add an uncomfortable inch that made their jeans too tight. “You know you won’t regret it.” He smiled, making his blue eyes pop.
Brooke peered up at the cool drink of water and allowed her ogling gaze to travel the length of his chiseled biceps and broad shoulders. His full head of not-quite-curly dark brown hair made him attractive in a boy next door look. Inwardly, she cringed as she glanced down at her ragged, disheveled appearance.Ah, come on now.She never met hot guys when she looked put together. Never.
Brooke blinked. “No, I know I will— regret it, big time. I’m just trying to decide how much I care.”
She knew she looked bad. Her dirty hair hadn’t been washed in days. To make matters worse, she had thrown it up into a haphazard bun on her way out the door. A mustard stain she needed to wash out shone brightly on the front of her hoodie. After her back-to-back shifts at the hospital, her eyes burned from lack of sleep. The dark circles which stared back at her in the mirror made herself flinch. If she wasn’t so bone dead tired, coupled with her gut-wrenching sadness, she might have cared.
“Ahh,” he replied.
“I’m a woman,” she countered.
Gosh, his eyes were intriguing, a perfect match of turquoise and aqua. She’d read somewhere that the blue-eyed and dark-haired combo was a dying breed. Then and there she cast a prayer, it wasn’t true.
“I noticed.” His lips twitched like he found her a bit amusing.
“If you didn’t hear, carbs are the woman’s enemy.”
“Are they now?” His eyes glinted with humor. “I thought a woman’s enemy was men who didn’t pay on dates and people who don’t put their cart away after they visit the grocery store.”
“Wrong.” She made a buzzer sound. “Carbs, it always was and always will be carbs. This is why I’m trying to decide.” Brooke forced her gaze away from the hot guy back to the bread rack. “Do I care I will polish off the entire loaf by myself on my way home?”
“Did you want me to answer that?” he replied.
“No.”
His gaze roamed her body. “Bad day?”
Bingo, genius.
Brooke shifted back to take in the boy next door with his five o’clock shadow. He looked like he was on his way to a casting call for a Hallmark movie, and she wanted to hate him for it. He probably dated women who hated bread and drank green smoothies on their way to yoga. Most definitely he didn’t date women like her.
“You have no idea,” Brooke muttered.
She scooted closer to the bread rack and pinched the bag of French bread again. The aroma seeped out of the top of the open bag, hitting her again with its intoxicating scent. It screamed ‘buy me, buy me’. Brooke planned to as soon as Mr. Hottie moved it along. She preferred to make unhealthy food choices alone.
“Oh,” he stammered.
His gaze slid up and down her a second time in a less than obvious manner. She wondered if he thought she looked as bad as she appeared.Wait, she didn’t want to know the answer.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He stepped back and widened the space between them like she was a loose cannon. “I hope it gets better. Maybe the bread will help?” Slowly, he moved further away.
“Not likely.” Brooke picked up a package of the bread, then added, “But thanks.”
It looked like Brooke had dinner.
“Hey,” he smiled and revealed his dazzling white teeth. “You’re going for it.” He nodded his head toward her loaf of bread. “Good for you.”
