Page 17 of Breaking the Ice

I look at the twenty-four dollar a pound price tag and then back to him. Who spends a hundred bucks on fish for one person? “I guess if you don’t mind eating it day and night until you’ve finished it …” He and I clearly live on different planets.

Bennet wraps the gorgeous fillets in white paper and hands them over to Zach before asking me, “What can I get for you, Ellie?”

I try to do a Vulcan mind meld on Zach and will him to walk away, but it doesn’t work. So, I tell Bennet, “I need a whole chicken, but it doesn’t have to be a big one.”

It’s no secret that my mom and I aren’t loaded, so he smiles knowingly while saying, “I’ve got some dark meat parts on the bone for a fraction of the cost. You want those?” While I wish he didn’t have to say this in front of Zach, I’m not so high in the instep that I don’t appreciate a bargain. “That’s perfect, Bennet. The dark meat will taste great in my soup.”

Bennet used to be friends with my dad when he was alive. He tried to keep up with my mom, but her health took such a turn that she doesn’t see many people anymore. After wrapping up my order, he hands it over. “Give your mom my best, will you?”

I agree to do that while taking the package from him. Walking away, I tell Zach, “I just need to get some yeast and then I’m done. Should I meet you in the car?”

“How about walking around with me and showing me where everything is?”

I’m about to tell him I don’t know where they keep the caviar, but I think better of it. Instead, I investigate his cart and ogle the healthy selections, before asking, “What else do you need?”

“Frosted Flakes, milk, and ice cream.”

“Frosted Flakes?” I giggle.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Pushing my cart toward the cereal aisle, I tease, “I took you more for a Raisin Bran kind of guy.”

“Why in the world would you think that?” Good, he’s taken the intended offense.

I shrug my shoulders. “Raisin Bran seems sensible and grown up. Frosted Flakes is kind of childish.” He looks stunned at my assessment but doesn’t comment on it. I tease, “What kind of ice cream do you get? Bubblegum?”

“Very funny. I’ll have you know I like butter pecan, mint chocolate chip, and pistachio.”

“What about cookie dough? That’s my favorite.”

“I’ve never had it,” he says.

I stop walking so I can shout right at him. “You’re kidding?”

“No.”

“Zach, your nephews practically live on cookie dough ice cream. In fact, you should probably get them some while you’re here.”

“Fine. I’ll get them some and I’ll get me some. I’ll let you know my verdict.”

Even though I don’t want to talk to Zach all the time, I realize I won’t be able to keep my distance entirely. I mean, in addition to staying in a cottage on the same property I am, he’s sure to be at the ice rink a lot. “You’ll like it,” I assure him.

“What if I don’t?” The grin on his face makes it clear he’s teasing.

“You will.”

Zach and I continue our stroll through the aisles, which feels uncomfortably domestic. It’s the kind of thing I’d do with a boyfriend or husband, not a tenant.

After paying for our stuff, we drive back to the house. I tell Zach, “I need to check on my mom and then go back to the rink for my last lesson of the day. I got most of the inside of your place cleaned, but I’ll have to stop by tomorrow and pick up the curtains for washing.”

“What about the windows?” he wants to know.

“The windows are your job.”

“I thought you had to approve of my work before allowing me to stay tonight,” he says playfully.

I don’t take the bait. “At this point, the place is yours for two months. Wash the windows, don’t wash the windows. I don’t care.”

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