Page 80 of Debt of My Soul

“We’re about twenty minutes from a bigger grocery store. We should be able to get what we need there.” Liam’s eyes skirt to mine and heat rushes to my cheeks as I’m afraid the thoughts I had are written on my face. I divert my gaze in favor of the window.

“Yeah, okay,” I whisper into the trees as Liam backs up down the single-lane path until he can successfully turn around.

It takes exactly that before we pull into a well-maintained but older grocery store. The brick façade is worn down from stark red to a dull brown, and the metal awning with chipped paint displays the few letters left. IGGLY GLY.

At least this store is larger than the one we have in town. I drag a cart behind me as I peruse the selection of produce, then grab a head of broccoli and some onions. Liam watches me out of the corner of his eye, and the sudden feeling of awkwardness rears its head.

“So, uh, what do you like to eat?” I ask. Goodness, could this be any weirder?

He shrugs and tosses a bottle of ranch dressing into the cart before eyeing the vegetables as if they wronged him. “Not that.”

I can’t help it. I end up cracking a smile and letting loose an airy laugh.

Liam, whose eyes are scanning the dairy section, does a double take before staring at my grin. His own falls, going serious and skidding away.

“Do you all eat together? At the dining area in the clubhouse?” I ask.

“What? No. That’s just for special occasions.”

“Like marring someone’s skin with a hot poker?”

Liam swipes at his forehead, a familiar dark smudge of dust smeared between his fingers. Arching a brow, Liam takes a step toward me, the air twisting taut, and my breath catches in my throat.

I bite my lip and look away.

The ring from Liam’s cell phone draws him up short, and he pauses to answer.

“Darrin …” he says, moving down the aisle so I can’t hear.

While he takes the call, I gather some oat milk, coffee creamer, cheese, and anything else that sounds good. Honestly, when I saw the dining area, I figured they all ate there. However, it’s looking more and more like many of the guys eat within the confines of their own cabins.

I’m not the best cook. Average at best. With Chris, after the first several years of no proposal, I became overly obsessed with convincing him I was wife material. I cooked to the best of my ability, slaving away with false enthusiasm in the kitchen. Pathetic.

I reach for my wrist, but I’m met with the scratch of the gauze and huff out, annoyed. When I get to the frozen section, I grab a random brand of cookies and cream ice cream, all but throwing it in the cart.

My hand is barely out of the cart when the static brush of Liam’s arm shocks me. He picks the tub out of the cart and puts it back. Just when I think he’s opposed to ice cream, he puts a different brand of the same flavor in.

“This is superior. You almost committed a grievous error.” He smiles at me. Full-on smiles at me. I’m pretty sure my mouth falls open in response. For a minute, I almost forget about ourcircumstances; about Adam, Darrin, and the glaring burn on my wrist.

Almost.

I eyeball the half gallon he replaced, smiling as I murmur, “Noted.”

Liam pulls the front of the cart with two fingers as he examines each of the freezer sections. He pulls out some frozen sausage patties and tosses them in the cart.

“So what do you eat?” I try again.

He shrugs, and I pull a few frozen burritos out.

“Eggs mostly.”

I snort, and he stops pulling the cart in favor of striding toward me. I back up, but he reaches for the hat on my head and flicks it with his middle finger.

“Find it funny?” he asks.

“Absolutely …” Liam’s nostrils flare. “Not,” I finish.

He steps back. “Good.” His mouth twitches like he wants to grin again, and I smile slyly into my shoulder.

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