Page 31 of The Summer of ’98

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eleanor said.

“We’ll be back in an hour or so,” Leroy called from beside the front door while he shoved his feet into his Vans. “Need anything from the store?”

“Get me a six-pack,” Jacob shouted.

Eleanor frowned. “He isn’t twenty-one.”

“Never mind then.”

I laughed as Leroy held the door open for me. The closer we got to our time alone, the more excited I grew. We slid into the car and wound down the windows as soon as the engine was fired up.

“Steakhouse is always a win,” Leroy grinned as he reversed out of the driveway. “I knew that’d get them out of the house.”

“Where’s Castle Pines?” I asked.

“An hour out of town,” he said, leaning across the center console once we were on the road, his hand settling on my thigh. “Finally, a bit of time to our damn selves.”

“I can’t wait.”

There’s literally nothing Leroy did that he didn’t look gorgeous doing. Somehow, he looked like perfection as he pushed a cart around the store. I wasn’t subtle in my admiration, watching as he reached the top shelves to collect various ingredients, his sun-kissed skin pulling taut around his firm muscles.

“What kind of sauces do you want, Els?” he asked as he glanced over a piece of paper in his hand. His lips moved as he murmured to himself and then he shoved the list back in his pocket.

I stared at the shelf that housed a huge selection of sauces and spreads. “Mayo? Peri Peri? Barbecue?”

“What kind of burritos do you eat?” he laughed.

“Peri Peri is good with chicken. We could have chicken burritos?”

Leroy shrugged with a thoughtful look on his face. “Could be good. I usually do ground beef. But that sounds tasty as well.”

“We should do a little bit of butter chicken. That could be super tasty in a soft wrap?”

“You’re the chef tonight,” he swiped a jar of sauce from the shelf. “What else?”

“Mmmm, hummus and sour cream, and we should get some lemon pepper seasoning.”

“Are you sure you’ve never cooked before?” he asked, reaching for the items and dropping them into the cart.

“I’m looking at things that sound like they might taste good with chicken,” I confessed.

We decided that we’d do a little side of ground beef too, so that we had options. When we got to the end of the aisle, Leroy suggested that I go and pick an ice cream for dessert while he went and got the meat from the fridge. We split off and I went in search of some cookies and cream.

It turned out to be harder than I thought to pick a flavor. I thought I knew what I wanted. But when faced with the ample options, I stared into the freezer and chewed my thumb. Passion fruit sounded good. But, chocolate. Peaches and cream sounds freaking delicious.

“Sorry, excuse me a moment.” I jumped a little at the unexpected voice beside me.

A man reached into the freezer and pulled out a tub of vanilla, dropping it into his basket. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized. “You were off in a daze and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh, no, that’s my fault.” I was well aware of my habit to internally drift.

“You’re not from here, right?” he said.

“Um—”

“I work here,” he shifted his basket to the other hand. “I’m familiar with the regulars, and I’d definitely remember a face like yours.”

I blushed. Not because I was flattered or wanted to be flirtatious. It was just a reaction to being admired, and while he didn’t seem rude or arrogant, I still wasn’t that keen on being approached so casually. Of course, I didn’t want to seem like a bitch by telling him to shut up, so I stood there with red cheeks while I shifted nervously on the spot.

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