Page 2 of Recipe for Rivals

Of that, at least, I approved. Mostly because I knew Carter wouldn’t.

His light brown eyes danced with interest as they raked over me.

That was where he lost me.

My current status was: mom. Not single, not looking for love, not content being on my own, justmom. My kids took my entire focus right now. Getting checked out in the market gave me the ick.

I pushed my cart further away from him and scanned the ice cream for a good, cheap brand.

He came to stand beside me. “Have we met?”

“No,” I said and kept looking. The prices were so low here compared to what I was used to paying in New York. It surprised me what I could get for under five dollars.

“You sure?” he pressed. “I know your face.”

I quickly glanced down at his hand—no ring, so it probablywasa stupid pickup line. “Let me guess. You’ve seen it in your dreams?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm like a dark chocolate brownie. “If I wanted to flirt with you, I wouldn’t have started with that.”

Noted.

I opened the freezer and pulled out the cheapest vanilla ice cream.

“You didn’t go to Arcadia High, did you?” he asked.

I glanced at him. So he was from here, a born and bredTexan. It wasn’t a surprise. He had that slow way of talking the rest of them had, like he felt around all the words instead of spitting them out at maximum efficiency.

“I’m not from here.” I started to walk away. “And if I wanted to meet a guy, it wouldn’t be in the ice cream aisle.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond when I kept walking right out of the aisle.

Oh, rice. I would need rice if I was going to make teriyaki chicken. I peeked at the kids, found them still looking at tiny cars, and went to find rice.

By the time I found the rice, I remembered more things I needed for dinner and went back to the produce section for green onions and garlic. A loud crash echoed through the store. I dropped the garlic and ran for the household necessities aisle.

Ben was on the floor surrounded by blue Hot Wheels packages, his face beet red, and Cat Food Guy kneeling beside him.

Alice stood behind them, clutching her pink monkey and biting her thumb with wide blue eyes. At six, she was too old for that. I was supposed to stop it when I caught her—which was seldom as it was—but all I saw now was a girl halfway across the country from home and stressed about getting in trouble.

Cat Food Guy picked up the long silver hooks that most of the cars had probably fallen from. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said to Ben. “I pulled the wrong orange out of a pyramid a few weeks ago and oranges rolled everywhere. Mrs. Jefferson was fixin’ to swat me with her broom.”

What was he even doing in this aisle?

“Who’s Mrs. Jefferson?” Ben asked, starting to gather the cars. The red stain on his cheeks was already beginning to fade.

“Did you see the lady with the glasses in the soup aisle?”

Ben nodded eagerly. Had they not noticed me join them? I was surprised Alice hadn’t run to clutch my legs already.

“That’s her.” Cat Food Guy lowered his voice while he slidthe hooks back into their slats. “She’s been working here since I was a kid, and she used to chase us out with her broom when she thought we were up to no good.”

“But you’re a grown up,” Ben said with wide-eyed fascination.

“I am, but she still scares me. You better believe I picked up every one of those oranges before she could fetch her broom.”

Ben started picking up the cars faster and Alice joined him.

Cat Food Guy met my eyes and winked.

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