“You should try a rosé-arita,” he continued. “Regular margarita with rosé in it. A salt rim is best, but you could do sugar if you like something sweeter.” I could practically hear his smile. “But as we already established, sugar isn’t your thing, is it?”
Either he was a mind reader or he was a stalker. Had he been watching me at the Mexican restaurant? Did he follow me down the sidewalk? I fought the urge to text Whitney to see if I could borrow her scary lady bodyguard.
I was probably overreacting. Or at least I hoped I was.
Thankfully, the line shuffled forward again, leaving one person between me, the cashier, and freedom from this hell.
“You local or passing through?” he asked.
I turned to face him so I could remember what my stalker looked like when I inevitably had to report him to the cops. “Just here for work. I’m traveling with a large group of people who are expecting me back in five minutes and will be alarmed if I don’t show.” I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about the half-lie.
He chuckled and took a half step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like a creep. Just trying to make conversation.”
“You should stick with the weather.”
He leaned forward a bit, taking back that half step. “Nice night to meet your future husband.”
I batted my eyelashes. “I have a taser.”
He smirked. “Sounds kinky. You’re really into things that buzz, aren’t you?”
I turned back around as the customer in front of me finished their transaction.
“See, I have this theory that everyone on earth has at least five things in common with any random person. You just have to keep talking until you find them. And then you can talk forever,” he said to my back.
I glanced over my shoulder. “What if one of my five things is that I hate small talk?"
“That’s fine. Wanna get into conspiracies? Insecurities? Things you resent your parents for? Fears and dreams? We can split those seltzers and get right into the deep stuff.”
Finally, it was my turn to check out. I dumped the seltzers, vibrator, and batteries on the conveyor belt and moved up to the card reader.
The silver-haired cashier took one look at my items and raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t tried that kind. Any good?”
I glanced at the conveyor belt as she scanned the batteries first. “The seltzers? They’re pretty good. The pineapple is my favorite, but raspberry is a close second.”
“I meant the vibrator.”
The. . .vibrator? She was asking me about the vibrator?
Hot guy snickered under his breath.
My face turned bright red. “I—uh—haven’t used it. Pretty sure it’s not a dressing room situation where you try before you buy.”
“I was just making conversation,” she groused as she scanned the seltzers with an unamused glare.
What was with everyone wanting to get into conversations with strangers? What happened to ignoring people and letting them go about their lives unbothered?
I sighed and rolled my shoulders to try to ease the tension. This wasn’t me. I usually loved chatting with people in checkout lines. I had been in a mood since the barrage of Whitney and Wander’s happily-ever-after good news.
When the register paused for her to scan my ID, she glanced at the sign that said anyone under forty had to be carded, then looked me up and down. “You're at least forty-two, right?”
“Not for another ten years,” I clipped through gritted teeth.
She narrowed her eyes as she scanned the vibrator and queued the total. “Anti-aging cream is in aisle seven.”
I swiped my card with more force than necessary and snatched my bags.
“Have a good night, cupcake. Nice talking to you,” the hot guy called after me.
