Page 32 of Courageous Yearnings

You simply buy your size.

What’s the fun in that?

Exiting the changing rooms, she pushed her cart forward and heard a man’s easy laughter nearby, only to see Lance standing there with his cart. He was leaning forward, his elbows propped on the handle of the cart, typing away on his cell phone, distracted. It gave her a moment to look at him, smiling and marveling that they were actually building something between them.

Lance was so handsome, so easy going and wonderful, that it was really nice. His dark blond hair fell onto his forehead, his dark eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, and he had a wide jaw that made him look extremely intense or masculine at times. Chiseled, all the dirty historical romance books would call it – but what exactly was ‘chiseled’ anyhow? Wide, sculpted, strong, and angular. A-yep. That description fits nicely, she thought.

And she heard her cell phone ding, causing him to look up, meeting her gaze. They both stood there for a moment, and she somehow knew she had been caught gawking at him. His smile melted, growing gentle as he looked at her.

“I found a few treasures,” he said huskily. “And just laid eyes on the prize.”

Me?

She swallowed nervously and glanced down at her phone, simply to avoid his intense gaze, before bursting out laughing nervously at his text.

You sure? I can unfasten a bra with one hand— not bragging, just a fact you should probably know.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Absolutely – and I’m not even bothering to hide the fact.”

“No, I know you aren’t,” she retorted and then peered at his cart. “What did you pick up?”

“A few goodies.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if you insist on ruining the surprise, then I suppose I can spoil a few things,” he muttered, digging around in the basket before holding up a wooden cutting board. “Lunchables for adults.”

“It’s a cutting board.”

“No, it’s one of those fancy charcuterie boards… see? There’s a divot in the center for the pudding pack,” he grinned, pointing – and she burst out laughing, not even bothering to try to smother it. “What?”

“That’s not for pudding – you put brie or a bowl of dip in the center.”

“Or pudding.”

“Oh my gosh, Lance…” she chuckled, shaking her head. “What else did you get?”

“A spice rack… to keep things spicy at the house, of course.”

“I don’t really cook much. I use a crockpot or an air fryer – both of which I need to purchase.”

“But your man cooks all the time at work,” he bragged, winking. “I’ll just make sure we have enough for leftovers. In fact, if you are up to it – I can make us some fried pork chops, sauteed veggies, and…”

“Lance,” she interrupted, looking at him and trying to piece all of this together. “I don’t get it. One moment you are telling me you don’t want a girlfriend - and quite bluntly too. The next, you are trying to get me into your bed…”

“Still am,” he interrupted, winking at her, causing Blythe to roll her eyes.

“Then you are telling me you don’t want a relationship, but now you suddenly do? I mean, are you just wishy-washy like that? Should I be expecting this weird pendulum to swing in the other direction, resulting in you ditching me?”

And before she could say anything else, Lance was there. He took a step toward her, pulling her close to him with one hand on her lower back and the other cradling her face as he looked at her, his eyes intense.

“Things happen,” he admitted softly. “And I want us to find our footing along the way. I might trip, stumble, or step on your toes, but it’s not just having you in my bed that I want anymore.”

Her eyes searched his, unsure of what to say at that moment as they stood there together in the middle of the store with clothing racks all around them. His thumb caressed her cheek, treating her like she was almost fragile or precious, making her feel feminine.

At work, they called her a Pitbull, a shark, a Killer— but always something vicious because she did her job selling products and closing the sale, making her feel awful deep down inside.

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