“There are carts in the corner.” Havoc nods to the three carts lined up neatly against the wall. “And you know exactly what I mean.”
Sadly, I do. “Because you love living here.” And I wouldn’t want Mr. Timmons to know what a grump you are. “A cart won’t be necessary. I don’t really need much. I just wanted to get a feel for shopping.”
“It boggles my mind that a woman your age—”
“Excuse me?” There are insults, and then there is just plain rudeness. “I have not reached an age to be referred to that way.”
Havoc grins. “You should definitely think about grabbing some cake, but they aren’t as good as The Cake Lady’s.”
No one’s is as good as Cordelia’s.
“Have you been to the coffee shop and tried her cakes yet? They are worth moving to Silent Valley for.”
I tried the first cakes Cordelia made when she invited us back to her home for school breaks. “I’m not in the mood for cake.” Why settle when I can have the best anytime I want?
“You don’t answer questions that you don’t want to, do you?” Havoc reaches over and takes the basket from my hands.
“Why should I?”
He chuckles, “So that I know if you’re biddable or stubborn.”
“Isn’t every woman a little of both? When we trust you, we’re easy-going and comfortable. When we want something, we’re determined to get our own way.”
“When doesn’t a woman want something?”
Really? He really said that out loud to a woman? I can’t help but smile. “That’s fair. Though what some of us want might surprise you.”
“What do you want? A diamond necklace?”
It’s my turn to chuckle. I have dozens of those in the family vault. Grandfather doesn’t trust banks as much as you’d think, considering how much money he has in some of them. “Doesn’t every woman?” I reach over and pick up a block of cheese that I’ve never seen before.
Havoc stops. “You don’t.”
“Have you had this before?” Green cheese is a little off-putting.
“Sure. Those are diced herbs and green onions. There’s also bacon and cherries mixed in. It’s made on a farm a little over an hour from here.”
“Wait, you know where the cheese came from?” Havoc doesn’t seem to be the type to be bougie or crunchy enough to know where his cheese comes from.
“They came in and gave out samples a few years ago. Since then, they’ve been one of Creed’s favorites.” He takes a block and sticks it in my basket. “You can thank me after you try it.”
“Too much cheese isn’t good for you.”
“That reminds me, we need to head to the chip aisle.” Havoc skips past the fresh fruits and vegetables and heads right for the junk food. “Now we know you like orange chips.” He pulls a bag off the shelf. “But do you like spice? Because if so, these jalapeno ones will change your life. They’re another local brand.”
“Maybe I was wrong, and you are crunchy.” It’s weird to say that a tatted-up man who rides a motorcycle is crunchy. “But you eat pizza.”
“Woman, I’m not crunchy.”
“But you know where your food comes from.” I grin at him.
“Don’t irritate me.”
“Why not? It’s kind of fun. If I can’t be your friend, I might as well irritate you whenever I can for my own entertainment.” Why do I feel the need to prod this man?
“You have a weird sense of humor.” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“So?”
