Page 27 of Own the Eights
She nodded. “That makes sense for me. I blog about the importance of mindful eating and how that is an essential attribute of an eight.”
“Me too. Diet is a key component of the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset.”
Her jaw dropped. There was no way his blog shared this ideology with hers.
“Right.” She scoffed. “You’ve gotta be all ripped and ready to tear off your shirt at a moment’s notice. My blog takes a more holistic approach. A responsibly sourced food supply and organic farming practices mean something to my followers. Meeting an eight at the market isn’t about rocking killer forearms. It’s about employing an outlook that considers the planet when searching for your soul mate.”
He frowned. “Are you talking about the killer forearms you’re still gripping with some gusto, I may add.”
She dropped her hands. Stupid alluring forearms! She may be straddling his lap, but she put on her game face. This was a competition, after all, and Jordan Marks, with his shallow mindset, was her competitor.
Jane, Lizzy, and Hermione cheered!
She shifted her hips and brushed against his very large, rock-hard—
STOP!Her trifecta squirted her with an imaginary water cannon.
She plastered on a smirk. “What a setback for the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset, getting all hot and bothered over aneight.”
He schooled his perfect features. “I am not hot and bothered, and I didn’t hear you complaining during that…”
“Technique demonstration,” she supplied. Despite her lips screaming to be reattached to his, that couldn’t happen again.
No way!
“Right, a technique demonstration that your little sighs and lusty moans seemed to indicate you thoroughly enjoyed,” he answered, meeting her smirk with one of his own.
She gasped. “Lusty moans?”
He gave her a cocky shrug. “You did say my name on a pretty sexy sigh.”
Double crap! It had slipped out. But that kiss was so—
Another water cannon blast from the trifecta knocked her back on track.
“So, you think I’m sexy?” she countered.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “What I think is that the demonstration is over. You need to slip back into that Own the Eights cardigan, and we need to complete the first challenge.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” she replied, twisting off his lap and falling over the console into the passenger seat.
“And don’t forget your Julius Caesar sandals,” he said, but when she glanced up from collecting her shoes, he looked dazed and almost as off-kilter as she felt.
She pulled on her cardigan, got out of the Beamer, and joined him outside the market. She peeked inside. The aisles buzzed with young professionals. A little after seven o’clock, the after-work crowd perused the organic fare, many congregating near the prepared food counter and the salad bar.
“Do you think the Dannies are here?” she asked.
They passed through the sliding glass doors, and he glanced around. “You go left, and I’ll go right. Let’s do a sweep and check. I’ll meet you at the baby carrots.”
“Okay,” she answered, not at all keen on taking direction from this guy. But, like it or not, they had to work together.
She strolled the length of the produce section with no Dannies in sight, when a guy in ripped jeans and a Save the Whales shirt bumped into her.
“So sorry,” he said with a polite nod. “I’m looking for the cucumbers.”
She gestured over her shoulder. “Over there, by the zucchini.”
“Thanks,” he said and went on with his shopping.
