Page 20 of Zero Pucks

But I hadn’t shopped like this in so long, and by that, I meant indulging in myself without fear of judgment. The thought made me smile even as it hurt my chest, and I rounded the meat section, skipping all that because I had no idea what kind of accommodations the rental had.

The last thing I needed was a pile of perishables with nowhere to store them and no way to cook any of it.

The pasta section was promising though. I came to a halt when I realized that most of the packages were imported straight from Italy, and I quickly took out my phone to send a message to my sister.

“Look at this,” I said into the voice text. “Nonna would be paying for our move here if she could see this aisle.”

“Please don’t film the pasta. They’re camera-shy.”

The voice scared the shit out of me so badly I dropped my phone to the ground, and it hit the tiles with a very loud crack. I couldn’t see the man behind me, but I knew we both winced.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. I’m so fucking sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I bent down and swept it up as I did a half turn, and my gaze immediately caught on a thin bar of a prosthetic leg jutting out of his shorts. It…couldn’t be? Could it?

No. The man’s other leg was flesh.

“Now, Carol-Ann, she loves a camera,” the guy said, running his fingers over the socket covering his thigh. Shit, he caught me staring. I stood up so quickly my head swam. “She’s kind of a slut.”

“C-carol-Ann?” I stammered. Why did I say that? I should be apologizing for staring like a weirdo. I straightened and felt the screen with my thumb. There was a crack because of course there was. My gaze was stuck on the man though. Attractive, tall, broad, long wind-swept hair pulled back into a manbun.

A typical pretty boy. He was probably some former frat boy who lost his leg in a harrowing shark attack off the coast of Australia or something.

“Hi,” he said.

I swallowed heavily. “Um. Hello.”

“I really am sorry I scared you. Is your phone broken? I literally cannot fix it if it is. I can barely pay my bills working here.”

I blinked and then realized he was wearing a green store apron.

“It’s fine,” I rasped, my throat kind of dry. Why was I so bad at interacting with strangers? “I have insurance.”

He brightened. “Tourist? You look new. And lost.”

Clearing my throat, I pushed my basket away a few steps and followed it. “Um. Yes. Just visiting for a few days.” Ten days. Ten days to find my not-quite husband and get a not-quite divorce. My gaze went back to his leg, unable to help it. It looked a lot like the ones I’d seen at the front desk that belonged to Tucker. What were the chances?

His head tilted to the side. “See, she’s a slutty, slutty lady.” He touched his leg again, and when I flushed, he laughed. “I’m joking. I don’t care if you stare at her.”

“N-no. It’s not…I just…know a guy.”

“Me too. I know a lot of guys.” He winked. “Single?”

“M-me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Married,” I blurted. Oh my God, what was wrong with me? Why did I say that?

“Shame. Anyway, can I help you find anything?”

Shaking my head, I took another step away. Then I looked again because apparently, I was a glutton for public shame. “Why do you call it Carol-Ann?”

His grin widened. “Poltergeist.” He said it like somehow that made any kind of sense. I frowned. “It’s this movie where?—”

“No, I know it,” I said. “I s-saw it when I was a kid. Scared the shit out of me.”

He grinned wider. “Oh my God, me too. Anyway,” he said without explaining why his leg was named after a horror movie character from the eighties. “I’m going to get back to work before I get fired because this will be my sixth job this year, and my landlord will literally murder me in my bed if I’m late on rent again. Yell for me if you need anything.”

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