Page 70 of Grumpy Billionaire Bad Boy

"You heard 'em." Robinson tucks the gun up under his biceps. "Let's get this cleaned up."

Officer Peterson locks the front door and stands guard while the rest of them go to work. I leave them to find London and Ruth, who are near the produce section.

I take the basket from London, the weight of it no doubt too much for her to carry in her condition. "Did you find what you needed?" I ask her.

"And some," she confirms. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep."

"Thank you, Archie." Ruth pats my arm. "You take good care of me."

"Speaking of which, can I talk to you?" I pull her aside and disregard the strange look from London. Lowering my voice, I say, "I'll give you ten grand to close up for an hour every Sunday so we can come in without any other customers."

Ruth shakes her head. "That's absurd, Archie, I won't let you do that."

"I'm insisting." I stare at her, wanting her to understand just how serious I am. If I have to bring London in here one more time, it sure as hell better be when no one else is in here. Why take the risk if it's not necessary?

"What time were you thinking?"

"Whatever time works for you," I tell her in my attempt to make this easier on her.

Ruth rubs her chin. "We do have a slow period between nine and ten in the morning."

"Works for us. I'll bring cash." My thoughts wander to the man I made a mess of. "I'll send some extra for cleanup."

"That's absurd and not needed. You really do take great care of me, Archie. It's the least I could do to repay you. This store wouldn't be here, I wouldn't be here, if it weren't for you."

"Don't mention it," I say, actually wishing she wouldn't.

"Take whatever you need. And if I can offer a little advice…" Ruth leans in close. "You should marry that one."

"What? No. We'd kill each other." London and I are nothing alike, and the only thing we manage to be consistent at is fighting with each other. Taking things further than we already have would result in nothing good for either of us.

Our relationship is fleeting, simply a means to an end, a favor where I'm trying to hold up my end of the bargain.

"Whatever you say." Ruth grins and winks at me, leaving me a moment later to attend to the cops who are bagging up the body in the front of her shop.

"You need anything else?" I ask London who is aimlessly scanning the tray of tomatoes like she's trying to busy herself.

She points her finger in the air like an idea has hit her and marches away."Bagels, we definitely need bagels." London latches onto a pack and tosses them into the basket. "Can we get supplies to bake cookies?"

"You know how to bake cookies?" I follow her into the wrong aisle, putting my hand on her lower back and guiding her in the right direction. A few minutes ago I thought she was going to bolt out of here, and now she's considering baking. I guess it just goes to show how little we know about each other.

"No. But I can follow directions." She holds out her hand. "Give me your phone."

"What? Why?" I stop in front of the baking section.

"To find a recipe, duh."

I narrow my gaze. "Where's your phone?"

"I left it at home."

Something about the way she says home cuts right through me. I swallow it down and snatch a bag of chocolate chips off the shelf, turning it over and giving it to her. "There's a recipe right there."

"Oh." London plucks the bag out of my hand and gathers the ingredients, one after another, filling the basket more and more.

We finish finding all the items and head to the front of the store where I insist Ruth checks us out and I pay for everything. With two stuffed brown bags, London and I leave the store, and the crime scene, and head back to our apartment.

---