I recognized that cough.
And when I turned in that direction, I saw him standing there.
The man in the mask.
From the other day.
“Well,” I said, because apparently my mouth liked to operate before my brain caught up, “at least the cough sounds like it’s getting better.”
Those brilliant green eyes snapped toward me. They’d looked almost flat the last time I saw him. Distant. Now they lit up, sharp and amused.
“I see you’re committed to the crunch aisle.”
God, that voice.
It made me glance down at the basket hanging from my arm before looking back up at him.
I still wanted to know why he covered his face like that.
I mean, outside of the cough.
“I’m definitely more savory than sweet,” I said, offering him a small smile.
More savory than sweet? What was I, narrating a cooking show?
He tilted his head slightly, arms folding across his broad chest. “So which one wins?”
I glanced down at the basket. “Why do you think I grabbed three different bags?”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Couldn’t commit?”
“Never,” I said. “Commitment issues. Strictly in the snack department.”
That pulled a laugh from him, low and warm, and I hated how much I liked it.
“Well,” he said, shifting so he leaned an arm against the shelf, casual like he hadn’t just rearranged my nervous system, “you’re in luck. I’m more of a sweets guy. You can have all my chips.”
I brightened. “Then you can take my Skittles. They make my jaw hurt anyway.”
He lifted a brow. “Not a gum chewer?”
I shook my head. “I grind my teeth at night. My jaw gets sore pretty easily.”
“You should get a mouthguard,” he said. “Protect those molars.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you, a dentist?”
He chuckled again, softer this time. “Something like that.”
Something like that?
That was not an answer.
A beat of silence settled between us, not awkward exactly, just… aware.
“So,” I said, because apparently I liked living on conversational cliffs.
“So,” he echoed.
