“No. I’m from Florida. Clearwater.” She throws that last part out like it was a mistake.
“Nashville gets plenty hot in the summer. You’ll feel right at home.”
We pull into the parking lot of the upscale market. I usually get groceries delivered or do a big Costco run, but I want to pick up steaks to grill, hoping Pierce will be home tonight.
I glide the Charger into a spot right by the door. Not my usual choice. I’d rather walk an extra hundred feet than have some yahoo in a Ford F-150 who doesn’t know how to park end up dinging my door. Ash is out of the car, shutting her door before I even make it to her side. Wow, okay. My level of instant anger and irritation at that is a wee bit irrational.
I wait for her to fall in step beside me. She’s not tiny, not really, but I shorten my steps to match hers as I snag a cart. The doors whoosh open to soft classical music.
“Wow.”
“What?” I ask, pausing next to a display of hot house-grown cherry tomatoes.
“This place is fancy. And expensive. Papa always says rich people pay extra for pretty things.” She touches a Sumo orange and quickly snatches her hand back like she’s going to get in trouble, jamming them in her pockets.
“Do you cook?” I put the tomatoes in the cart with two of the oranges.
“No, I’m a terrible omega. I usually eat at the diner, or get ramen noodles from the dollar store.”
I remember those days. Buying a pack of ramen and stealing three more when my birth pack decided to buy drugs rather than food. She said she didn’t like broccoli. I reach across that display for green beans. Everyone likes green beans, right?
An alpha is inspecting a display of mangoes. His eyes graze across Ash, and a smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. I step in front of her and direct her out of the produce section. We walk down the cereal aisle, and she flaps her arms a little like a baby bird. I toss in this high-fiber high-protein brand that no one eats but me. I hide the Lucky Charms. No one needs to know about my 3 a.m. addiction.
“This is weird,” Ash says, and I’m not sure she meant to say it out loud.
“What is?”
“Walking through a grocery store without a cart.”
“Oh, here.” I shift the cart in front of her, moving my hands to the left-hand side. “We can share.”
As she delicately puts her hands on the handle, her shoulder brushes mine. I unbutton my coat and pull it open.
I pick up steaks and chocolate milk. I know I’m missing things, but her scent is overpowering everything. And it’s way too fucking hot in here today.
There’s only one checkout lane open, and a beta couple is holding everything up, arguing about coupons. I know the classical music they pump in is supposed to be posh and soothing, but it’s getting on my nerves. Ash is looking through a display right at the register meant for impulse buying, picking each item up, giving it a sniff and setting it down.
“Are you on the hockey team too?” Ash looks at me from under her lashes.
I laugh. “No.”
“So, what do you do?”
“I help Pierce manage his gym and Beckett with his career. I do some computer stuff.”
“You must be smart.” She’s pretending not to study me, just like I’m pretending not to study her.
“That’s a new brand.” I point to the lip balm display. “FOBO. For Omegas, By Omegas. They’ve got some really cool contests on social media right now.” I take out my phone. “What’s your Insta? I’ll send it to you.”
“Oh, I’m not a…” She cuts herself off and looks down, avoiding eye contact. “Social media is dumb.”
Motherfucker. She was going to say, ‘I’m not allowed.’ I know it. She was going to say it and choked up because she knew it was wrong. My anger and irritation now is very rational. Who the fuck is holding her leash?
The cashier says “next” twice before I actually hear it.
“I’m going to get this,” she says, taking a few crumbled bills out of her pocket.
“Just put it on the belt.” I pull the cart back so she can go in front of me.
