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“To Bar-Ra-Cuda!” He continues what he’s doing, but I stop, brows furrowed.
“Seriously! That’s the name of the bar?”
He chuckles and nods his head. “Hey, don’t knock the name. They have the best craft beer I’ve ever had and their vibe is laid back and chill.” He stands up, stepping into my space, and I can smell the heady scent of smoke and pine on him.
“I was going to hang out with my neighbor tonight. If I go, can I bring her with me?”
“Is she as hot as you are?” I’ve noticed since I stopped wearing my ring and announced my engagement was over, a few of the guys have been more flirtatious than they were.
“Hotter, but you better watch out. Wouldn’t want someone to overhear you talking and turn you in for sexual harassment.” I’m not upset, but I’m also not ready for sexual attention from my co-workers. I have to work here and there’s one thing my grandparents taught me: don’t shit where you eat.
“Nah, baby, they’d never do that. I’d fuck them up. But come and bring your friend. I’ll buy you both a shot.”
I give him a pat on the shoulder and walk away.
“So is that a yes?” he hollers at me. I’m ready to get out of here. I need to stop by the grocery store on the way home, so I just give him a thumbs up and head back to the locker room.
Grocery shopping is by far one of my least favorite things about being an adult. It’s the whole process I don’t like. Put it in the shopping cart, unload it at the register, then bag it, put it in the car, take it in the house, then put it away. It’s too fucking much.
It doesn’t take me long to change and slip out of the firehouse without seeing anyone else, thank god. Captain Olsson has been pulling me into his office regularly to make sure I’m okay, and I really didn’t want another meeting with him.
The day after my drunken bender, he gave me a thirty-minute lecture on coming to work in the condition I was in. It didn’t help that we were called out to another fire at an abandoned building. I know it was the arsonist again. It was just too similar.
I’m finally in my car, music on, as I sing along to Selena Gomez. She’s my guilty obsession.
Pulling out of the fire station, I head toward Sullivan’s Grocery store.
A few minutes later, I’m turning off the main road into a packed parking lot. I groan loudly and hit the steering wheel. Everyone and their momma decided to shop at the same time. Damn it. After circling the parking lot three times, I finally see someone leaving and take their spot.
Since the only thing I have in my apartment is an almost empty jar of peanut butter, some crackers, and ketchup, I need literally everything. After grabbing a cart, I make my way up and down the aisles, weaving through the shoppers who stop in the middle of them to gawk at the two types of pasta noodles, which frustrates me to no end. It shouldn’t take that long to choose.
It’s freaking pasta. What’s there to think about?
I’m just turning a corner, mumbling under my breath at the bitch who was just blocking me when I run smack into another cart.
“Sorry Lass.” A deeply accented voice hits my ears, sending a jolt straight through me, and my damn pussy throbs.
I’ve always been a sucker for an accent. Especially a Scottish one.
“No, it was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” I look up and can feel my temperature rising, any rational thoughts going out the window. His voice is just as sexy as he is.
“Dinnae worry. I’d bump into you in a heartbeat for a chance to see your bonnie face.” Fuck if I’m not horny right in the middle of the pasta aisle.
People have hit on me at work and at the bar, but no one has ever hit on me in the grocery store, especially not someone who looks like this sinful man in front of me. If the Scots had a god, this is what he would look like. Tall, muscular, brown spiky hair and a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. He is the epitome of perfection, and I need to get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself.
I rush around him, not saying another word. I know he has to think I’m insane, but I don’t care.
I pray to all that is holy I can make it out of this store without bumping into him again. I look awful—no makeup, my hair up in a messy bun, and I didn’t shower before leaving work, so I know I probably smell, which is just icing on the cake.
Granted, it’s my go to look, but I usually have some light makeup on so it’s not so bad.
I move as quickly as I can through the rest of the aisles, plucking the items I need from the shelves while scanning the area around me. When I reach the end of my current aisle, I see him pushing his cart into the checkout lane. I sigh and turn toward the frozen food section, grateful it’s in the opposite direction.
He’s hot as sin, and seeing him again would only serve as a reminder of how big of a fool I made of myself. The chances of that are highly unlikely—I’ve never noticed him before. But I’ll find somewhere else to shop if I run into him here again.
I finish my shopping, giving him enough time to check out and leave before I head to the register.
After putting everything away, I pop a frozen meal into the microwave and turn it on. Lasagna. If I transfer it from the cardboard carton to a plate, turn down the lights and squint my eyes, it’ll be just like eating at a five-star restaurant.
