Page 18 of Entangled

I scoff and keep my eyes trained away to avoid looking at him. The last thing I need is to get all hot and bothered in the produce department. Again.

“You might be the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t worry. In time you’ll come to love me all the more for it.”

Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

We lapse into companionable silence after that as we dive into shopping. Me, sipping away at his coffee and grabbing anything I think I might need off of the shelves. Him, grabbing significantly more items than I do and tapping out a beat on the handrail of his cart, humming a tune I can’t quite place. His voice melodic and soothing as we walk side by side.

It’s surprisingly enjoyable actually… natural feeling even, I suppose.

And that realization alone causes an uncomfortable twist in my gut, filling me with the need to break whatever spell we’ve fallen under.

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as he grabs some pasta from the shelf. My eyes sweep down the length of his arm and trace the lines of the beautiful tattoo covering it, marveling at its intricacy. A single anchor hangs low on the inside of his wrist, the chain rising into the crashing waves that cover his forearm. A lone sailboat starts at his elbow, the bulk of it almost completely surrounding his bicep while the sails disappear underneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“So what’s the story behind the tattoo?”

He spares me an amused glance as we round another aisle. “There has to be a story?”

“There’s always a story.”

“Ha.” A soft scoff leaves him as he reaches up to grab a can of tomatoes. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“So what’s yours?” I press.

“Well.” He starts slowly, pushing his cart farther down the aisle, grabbing more items as we go. “About three years ago I got out of the Navy after finishing my term and this was my celebration present to myself.” He flashes me a quick grin. “Nothing too shocking.”

Quickly doing the math in my head, I cock a brow at him. “So you were, what? Eighteen when you joined?”

“Yep,” he answers casually, avoiding my eyes and not elaborating.

Which, of course, just sparks my curiosity more.

“You don’t really strike me as a military type of guy.”

Observation of the century right there, El.

He makes a sound of affirmation and points out the coffee section to me, succeeding in temporarily distracting me while I weigh my options. Not that I really have a whole lot of options to choose from. There was no coffee maker at Gram’s, which pretty much limits me to instant or instant. Sighing in resignation, I throw a container of it into my cart and pin him down under my gaze again.

“You’re really not going to give me anything else here?”

“What more do you want?”

“To know what you’re being cagey about.”

“I’m not being cagey.” He shrugs, seemingly unbothered by my questioning. “It’s just a story best left for another day.” Those firework eyes twinkle playfully as they meet mine. “Plus, my mama always told me to maintain some mystery if I wanted to keep them coming back for more.”

“Hmm,” is the only response I give him. Best to keep things ambiguous here.

“You got any tattoos, Blondie?”

A lie sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to be spoken into being, when the ink below my left breast burns in response. As if it knows I’m about to deny its existence. “Just one.”

“Feel like sharing?”

“Hmm.” I throw him a bratty smirk. “I think that’s a story best left for another day.”

He laughs openly in response to my snark, bringing us around the last aisle of the store before pausing to look down into my cart in confusion. “Luckily for you, what I really want to know right now is what the hell are you making?”

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