“Why?”
“Because you’re prowling up and down these aisles like a panther guarding its territory.”
“I’m not.” He grabbed another item, crossed it off, and started for the next item.
Skipping a step to stay with him, she gave a laugh. “My calves are literally aching from trying to keep up.” She sounded out of breath.
“I always shop this way.”
“Like it’s the Indianapolis 500?”
“In and out,” he said, stabbing a knifehand motion toward the registers at the front. “No need to waste time.”
“What if you forgot something? Taking your time will help you remember.”
“I have a list.”
She laughed. “I know. You always have a list. And a plan.”
“Now you sound like my mother.”
“Does that mean I get jam tarts, too?” Now she was taunting him.
“I told you, sweets will rot your teeth.”
“And I told you,” she said, leaning in and catching his arm, poking a finger at his bicep, “sweets will do much to soften your rough edge.”
He grinned like a fool at the way she laughed as they approached the check-out stands. She slipped closer, and his arm??—with a mind of its own??—coiled around her waist.
Casually, she tiptoed up and kissed him. Her lips were soft and teasing. Achingly familiar. Sweet. It surprised both of them, but neither pulled away.
“Welcome to Groce’s Grocer! Do you have a super saver card?” The all-too-cheery voice of the cashier crashed between them. “Oh. Hi, Mr. Mulroney.”
Face bright with embarrassment, Brighton eased out of his hold with a shy-but-guilty look that also said she hadn’t minded.
And really, neither had he. Because his brain wasn’t working. Kissing her, being with her, was as natural as grocery shopping. He also hoped Darrell had seen that kiss. After paying for the groceries, he started for the door, her hand slipping stealthily into his. He glanced at her, once again realizing how much he’d missed this. Missed her. Them.
The staccato barks of Grief jerked Stone to a stop. He glanced across the street, saw his Malinois tearing up the road toward the truck. A shadow spirited away from the vehicle, heading down an alley.
Stone nudged Brighton back into the store and passed her the bags. “Wait here. I??—”
“No!” She grabbed his arm. “No way. This is what they do??—distract and snatch.”
Stone realized she was right. Nodded. “Okay, c’mon.” He took her hand and led her across the street, stowed the groceries inside the truck box in the bed, and reached for his weapon. “I—”
Grief rounded the corner, trotting lazily as if he’d been out for a stroll.
Stone scanned the alley, the sidewalks, for sign of someone he didn’t recognize. For trouble, his internal alarms still ringing.
“The pastries are gone,” Brighton said. “Did you lock the truck after you put them inside?”
“Of course.” Startled by the pronouncement, he checked the cab of the truck. Sure enough, the box of pastries and tarts were gone. Had he locked it?
“The Knave of Hearts has struck this sleepy little town,” Brighton said, her voice tinged with nerves though she sought to make light of it.
Stone wasn’t convinced that this was just about someone stealing donuts. That tingling on the back of his neck told him there was trouble. He just didn’t know who or where it was. “Why don’t you get more donuts and tarts,” he said absently, going for his wallet.
“Why? So you can hunt down the thief?” She shook her head. “I told you?—I’m not leaving your side.”
