Page 26 of The Little Things

“You know you’re gonna need more than just wine and cheese, right?” Zach pointed out as I tossed a wedge of Manchego and a wheel of a delicious looking white truffle goat cheese.

I shot him a look over my shoulder. “Says who?”

“Doctors and dieticians, I’m sure.” He grinned and shook his head as I placed a bottle of cabernet into the cart gently, like it was my most prized possession. And after so many days of peanut butter and that god-awful bourbon, it really was. “You’re either going to clog your arteries or develop a drinking problem at this rate.”

“Okay, fine, bossy. I’ll get other stuff too.” With a huff, I forced my feet to move out of what would undoubtedly be my favorite section of the store.

“Do you have a list?” he asked as I started pulling random things from shelves as we moved along the aisles. So far I had a box of dried pasta, a loaf of sourdough bread, a single can of green beans, a bag of trail mix, and a couple boxes of cereal. I turned to find him staring down at the contents of my cart in confusion.

“A list for what?”

He lifted those chocolatey eyes to mine—which reminded me, I needed to grab some chocolate too—and raised his brows high on his forehead. “A grocery list. So you know what you need.” He waved his hand over the cart. “I’m not sure what the hell you’re plannin’ on making with all this, Hollywood, but I don’t think it’s gonna taste very good.”

I stared at the items I’d thrown into the cart. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing. I didn’t know how to cook to save my life. Back in L.A., I lived off takeout and dining out at whatever restaurant was the hot spot to be seen in at the moment. I paid someone else to handle the shopping whenever I needed my fridge or pantry stocked.

A blush crawled up my cheeks and the tips of my ears started to burn. Curling my lips between my teeth, I looked up at Zach from beneath my lashes and shrugged. “I’ve never shopped for my own groceries before.”

His mouth dropped open wide enough for a family of flies to move in. “You’re kidding me.” He let out a bark of bewildered laughter. “You’ve never grocery shopped before?”

My expression fell into a frown as I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “Don’t make fun of me.”

His smile fell instantly. He released the cart handle and rounded it, heading right for me. “Hey,” he said quietly, reaching up and taking me by my upper arms. His gentle touch was a contrast to his work-rough palms. In that moment I realized every man who’d touched me before Zach—not that there were many at all—had soft, perfectly manicured hands. My skin broke out in goosebumps as he trailed those hands down to my elbows and back up in a tender caress, a shiver working its way across my spine. I was pretty sure that one touch had ruined me for all soft-handed men from here on out. “Never.” He said that one word with such earnestness that it rattled through me. “I would never make fun of you, Rae. I’ll tease you, sure, but I will never make fun of you. You have to believe that.”

I did, actually. I wasn’t sure if it was the passion of his declaration or the intensity in his gaze, but I believed him.

I swallowed in an effort to ease my dry throat. “Okay,” I said on a croak. “I believe you.”

God, this man really wasn’t helping me get over my crush. Especially when he smiled like I’d given him the best gift ever. Like how he was smiling at me just then.

“Good. Come on, then. I’ll help you out. We’ll get you set up with some staples every house should have, and I’ll show you some quick, easy-to-make meals that consist of more than just wine and cheese.”

He could knock my wine and cheese all he wanted, but there was nothing better at the end of a long day than a bubble bath with a glass of wine and a cheese plate, and that was a hill I was willing to die on.

We went aisle by aisle, filling the cart with enough food to hold me over for a while. He tossed out my canned vegetables in exchange for fresh produce. When I argued, he simply gave me a look—the one that looked a whole lot like the look my mom used to give me when I was little and bitched about eating my vegetables—and kept on walking, tossing in more fresh, leafy greens as he went.

In the past twenty-four hours Zach Paulson had insisted on teaching me to ride a horse, promised to teach me to drive a stick shift, and was now talking about how he’d help me learn my way around the kitchen so I could cook for myself.

Given his gift for filling out a pair of faded Wranglers and all those hard, defined muscles, it was clear that if ever there was a perfect man on this planet, Zach was it. The fact that he looked the way he looked and could cook was enough to seal it, even if he didn’t have the world’s most incredible ass.

And speaking of his ass... he’d trailed ahead of me in the produce section while I pouted over a head of broccoli, and now that it was in clear view, I was tush-struck.

“It’s not gonna kill you to eat more fruits and—” He turned around mid-rant and caught me red-handed, so to speak. A cheeky smile tugged at his lips. “Were you just staring at my ass?”

My entire face caught on fire. My eyes bugged out, and every word I’d ever learned fell right out of my head. “I—what? No! Of course not. I wouldn’t. That’s not—” I blew out a raspberry before a hysterical cackle burst past my lips. “Please. Get over yourself.”

“You were! You were totally checking out my ass.” His laugh filled the produce section. I would never get tired of hearing that sound.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, embarrassment heating my entire body from the inside out. “You know, a gentleman wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”

His grin grew cheeky, causing my thighs to clench involuntarily. “That’s your mistake for thinking I’m?—”

I wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say, but whatever it was, the words died on his tongue at the same time all the color drained from his face, leaving him looking a sickly shade of white. His gaze shifted from me to something over my shoulder, and it was as if he suddenly disappeared on me. Like his mind had taken him somewhere else.

He went from laughing one second to looking like he’d come down with the flu the very next. His skin even had a slight sheen to it, like sweat had beaded along his forehead.

“Zach?” I said his name quietly, carefully taking a step in his direction. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

His throat worked on a thick, audible swallow as he kept his gaze trained behind me. I turned to see what he was staring at, but other than a wall of fresh produce, all I caught a glimpse of was a person’s back as they disappeared around the corner.

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