Okay, that’s another knowledge point unlocked.She has road rage.
I try to focus on the car that flew past us, but her body presses against my forearm, and my brain nearly short-circuits. My eyes fall to the space where we connect, my breath hitching for a beat. Electricity zips up my arm, settling somewhere in my gut.
“Some people shouldn’t be given driver’s licenses,” she huffs with a flick of her wrist. Sam settles back into her seat, effectively and disappointingly breaking that connection.
Putting both hands on the steering wheel, I check both waysbefore pressing my foot on the gas. We pull up in front of the craft store, and I whip the car into park. I kill the engine, run my palms over the front of my jeans, then reach for my wallet out of the cupholder. While Sam looks for something in her bag, I hop out of the car, letting my door slam shut.
I round the back of the car until I’m standing on the passenger side. I reach for the handle and pull the door open for her. Sam’s eyes dart to mine, almost as if she’s shocked.
“Thanks.” She takes my hand, allowing me to help her out of the car.
“Mm-hmm,” I mutter and hit the lock button on the handle.
Sam walks ahead of me, and I follow closely behind her, fighting to keep my eyes above her waist. We reach the entrance, and I reach around her to open it.
“Thank you again.” She enters the store, the threshold sensor dinging.
“Mm-hmm,” I respond.
Sam glances around the store then turns to face me. “What we need are going to be in different parts of the store. I’ll take the first half and you take the last.”
I nod and she pulls out her phone to share her list with me. Of course, she organized the list by what aisle they’re in in the store.
And she calls me a stickler.
“All right. See you in a bit.” Sam waves awkwardly and is off without another word.
I watch her grab a basket, then walk to the farthest aisle, realizing that she’s going to work her way back to the front. That way she’s closer to the register once she’s finished shopping. I shake my head, grab a basket of my own, and walk to my side of the store.
Following her lead, I start at the last aisle. There’s a womanwith a cart full of supplies. She smiles at me, and I tip my head in response, caving into myself to move past her. A second later, my phone buzzes and I glance down to a message from Sam.
Collins:Did you know that acrylic paint wasn’t a thing until the 40s, and because of how fast they dry, it became the go-to for modern artists?
I frown, now curious.
Bryden:No????
Collins: Neither did I until the guy next to me wouldn’t stop talking to me about it. Send help.
I smirk and inadvertently glance up at the woman in the aisle with me. My face twists, my nose scrunching in disgust.
Bryden:I’ll trade you. The lady in my aisle just dug out a massive booger and wiped it on her pants.
Collins:
Quickly, I speed-walk to the next row. After a few more minutes, we meet at the checkout line. Sam is walking toward me, huddling close as she tries to hold back a laugh. She tilts her head, signaling for me to come closer. I lean into her, immediately wrapped into the scent of her perfume. It smells sweet like vanilla, and, boy, is it intoxicating.
“That’s the guy.” She points behind her then steps around me to let out a laugh.
The guy makes brief eye contact with me, before turning his attention to one of the endcap items. I face forward and saunter up behind Sam as we wait for our turn. She stands just under my chin, and I don’t think I noticed how short she was before now.
The line moves, and she sways just a bit as her feet start to move. My front grazes her back and every muscle in my core clenches, but I suck in a breath to compose myself.
“Register four is open,” the clerk blurts out, raising her hand high for us to see.
Sam strolls to the counter with me hot on her heels. We set both baskets on the surface.
“Good evening,” Sam greets.
