Page 34 of Cold Front
I huffed out a breath, visible in the cold air. “I’m on time. You’re just early.”
Niall didn’t argue. Just held my gaze for a beat before pushing off the cart and nodding toward the entrance.
I swallowed.
I had no business thinking about another guy. Not when I was still trying to put myself back together, figuring out who I was without Chase’s influence pressing in on all sides. And definitely not when I had no idea where Niall landed on the spectrum of attraction—if he even landed there at all. Plus, he’d only recently begun tolerating me, anyway. One step at a time.
Better to keep those thoughts to myself.
But as we stepped inside and warmth enveloped us, the scent of ground coffee and fried food filling the air, I found myself wishing—just for a second—that Niall wasn’t straight.
I exhaled and flexed my fingers, trying to get some feeling back.
“All right,” I said, heading toward the produce section. “Potatoes, bananas, and blueberries.”
Niall fell into step beside me, steering the cart along. “No shortcuts, huh?”
“None.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, like the idea of doing things the right way was both amusing and mildly exasperating.
I shot him a grin as I reached for a bag of Yukon Golds. Then I caught the price and blinked. “Huh.”
Niall gave me a side glance. “Problem?”
“Just still getting used to how much some things cost here.” I dropped the bag into the cart. “Some stuff is way cheaper than in L.A., but then I see things like this, and I swear it should cost less.”
Niall snorted. “Welcome to small-town grocery stores. Limited options, higher prices.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when I saw what they charge for avocados.”
His lips twitched. “Bet that was rough for a California boy.”
“Devastating.” I grabbed a bunch of bananas and added them to the cart. “Bananas are for the pancakes.”
He frowned slightly. “You put bananas in the batter?”
I tossed some blueberries in next. “Sometimes. Other times, I caramelize them with brown sugar and butter.”
His eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure out if I was messing with him. “That’s… a lot of effort for pancakes.”
“All meals should be five-star meals.”
That almost smile twitched at the corner of his mouth again, but he shook his head.
We moved along the aisles, no particular order in mind. We stopped at the packaged meat aisle. Niall reached past me for the bacon. His arm brushed my shoulder, just barely, but I felt it everywhere.
I ignored the way my pulse jumped and kept moving.
We hit the dairy aisle next, and I slowed the cart, scanning the shelves. “Milk, eggs, butter.”
I grabbed a carton of eggs, flipping it open to check for cracks. Next to me, Niall stood quietly, watching but not interfering—like he trusted me to know what I was doing.
“Wait, what kind of milk do you drink?” I asked, glancing at him.
“The regular kind.”
I squinted. “You have to be more specific. Whole milk? Two percent? Almond?”
