Page 54 of The Christmas Wife

"Oh, I’m sorry." She bends at the same time that the man she’d run into says, "Excuse me." The stranger grabs a can of chocolate—motherfucker, it’s the same can I’d placed there earlier. I scowl. He snatches up a few of the other items, then straightens at the same time as her. Their heads bump. Something explodes inside of my chest. My vision narrows. I stalk forward.

He places the items in her shopping cart. "I’m Hunter," he holds out his hand.

"I’m Amelie." She raises her arm, and I plant myself between them.

"And she was just leaving." I thrust my hand in his, squeeze the motherfucker’s palm.

The expression on his face doesn’t change; he doesn’t flinch. I scowl at him.

He glances from me to Amelie. "Uh, a pleasure to meet you," he says.

"Can’t say the same," I grunt.

Amelie huffs, "Don’t mind him." She grumbles, "He was born with a lemon in his mouth."

I frown, "What does that mean?"

"It means that you have a terrible attitude and you are the most impolite person I know."

"Good," I mutter. "You done here?"

Hunter chuckles, "How long you guys been together?"

"We’re not—" Amelie starts.

"Long enough." I thrust out my chin at Hunter. "What kind of a bloody name is that anyway?"

His expression hardens, then he barks out a laugh. "You're refreshingly candid."

"That’s not all I’ll be if you don’t get out of my face," I shoot back.

He holds up his hands, "Not intruding on your patch, buddy." He glances around me, "Bye Amelie."

"Bye," she choruses back.

The man squeezes past me; my shoulder bumps his. He shoots me a narrowed gaze over his shoulder.

I glare back at him.

He frowns.

I glower.

His shoulders tense, then he jerks his chin.

Good, he got the message.

He pivots, walks away.

"What the hell was that?" Amelie huffs.

"None of your bloody business."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Why were you talking to him?" I snap.

She gapes, "What do you mean? He helped me pick up the groceries. What did you expect me to do? Ignore him?"

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