Page 45 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
Without hesitation, Christian walked him over to the next section, scanning the shelves until he found what the man was looking for. “Is this it? The peaches and cream?”
“That’s the one! Helen loved these oats. I think I might get more than one.”
The old man said his wife’s name in the past tense, and gentle, like he was handling something precious. Christian must have heard it too because his expression softened.
“She sounds like she had good taste.”
“Fifty-eight years of marriage, and she never steered me wrong. Not once.”
They chatted for another minute about Helen and her legendary apple pies, and I found myself rooted to the spot, watching Christian listen to this stranger’s stories. When they parted ways, my eyes followed the old man. His steps were lighter, like someone caring enough to listen had lifted some invisible weight from his shoulders.
“Small world.”
I spun around to find Christian standing behind me, his smile warm and slightly amused. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark gray sweater that hugged his muscular chest. I sucked back salvia that threatened to drip from my lips.
“Christian. Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” His eyes scanned my face in detail. “I didn’t know you did your own grocery shopping.”
I frowned and chuckled. “Why?”
“Surely Naomi Blackford would have her groceries delivered.”
“Because I’m too good to go into the grocery store?”
He smirked. “Quite the opposite. Maybe it’s because I want to cater to you, and in turn have decided that that’s the type of service you would enjoy.”
Heat assaulted me as a blush rose into my cheeks.
“I um…” I laughed, nervously. A ridiculous nervous chuckle too. “I needed some fresh air tonight. No catering, unfortunately.”
“Hmm… we might have to change that.”
My clit became sensitive suddenly and I cleared my throat.
“Maybe next time. Tonight, however, I need a good home cooked meal.”
“Home cooked, huh? What’s in your cart?”
I glanced down at my nearly empty cart, suddenly self-conscious about my lack of domestic skills. “The beginnings of good intentions.”
He laughed, and the sound sent warmth spreading through my body. “That’s honest. I respect that.”
“What about you? Let me guess—ingredients for some elaborate meal you’re going to cook from scratch.”
“I was thinking about making pasta tonight. Nothing extravagant, just something that doesn’t come from a box.”
I nodded.
“You were good with that little boy,” Christian said.
I sucked in my laughter. “You saw me?”
“Yes,” he pulled his bottom lip in with his teeth then rubbed both lips together. “It was the child that initially drew my attention but… seeing you held me in place. You have a way about hypnotizing me, Naomi.”
“Or maybe you’re a stalker,” I teased.
“Or maybe that.”
