I put the doll back on the shelf. “I don’t have anybody to buy her for.”
“I meant for yourself.”
“We’re not here to shop for ourselves.”
Rob whistles nonchalantly while ever-so-slowly moving a bunch of children’s mittens so they cover a Hot Wheels firetruck. I laugh and start pushing my cart away from him.
“We’re almost done, Rob. Let’s just focus on the list so we can get out of here. It feels like time has no meaning here and we’re going to stagger outside only to find out we missed New Year’s.”
We finally cross almost everything off the list—there are a few items Rob concedes I’ll have to order online—and head to the check-out. We bought so much stuff, it doesn’t fit on the cash register belt, so I have to go get an empty cart to load the purchases into as they’re bagged. From the corner of my eye, I see him push that ugly sweater through, and I let it go. I’m almost looking forward to the battle over whether or not I’ll wear it to the Christmas fair.
When I see Rob pull a journal with a bright floral cover out of the second cart, though, I call his name. “That must have fallen out of the seat into the basket. That’s mine, along with those socks.”
He holds up the thick, fuzzy socks decorated with Christmas penguins. “These socks? Are you trying to be secretly festive, Ms. Forrester?”
“They’re for my mom. Put those two things aside and I’ll pay for them after.”
“They won’t even put a dent in the bottom line.”
“I’m not misappropriating funds from the Santa Fund, Chief Byrne,” I say with exaggerated snippiness, and he chuckles as he sets my items back in the seat.
He ducks into the men’s room while I pay for my purchases, and I’m standing near the exit with two full carts when he emerges.
“There must be somebody wrapping gifts for a fundraiser somewhere around here,” I say. “If we can find one with multiple wrapping stations, it’ll still take a while, but maybe notforever.”
“No need. My family wraps the gifts.”
“Allof them?”
“No, we wrap the ones for the good kids in Christmas paper and the naughty ones get their gifts in brown paper bags.” He’s already pushing one cart toward the door, but the cheeky grin he gives me over his shoulder makes me laugh as I follow him.
I think I’ve laughed more today than I have all year, and as I hand the bags up to Rob to stow in the bed of his truck, I realize this has been one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. I’m not sure why doing a massive shopping trip with a guy who moves through the store like a mouse looking for peanut butter in a maze was fun, but I can’t deny that it was.
Once we finally reach the last bag, I return the empty carts while he rolls down the black leather thing that covers the bed of the truck and will keep bags from blowing out, raining toys and candy all over the cars behind us on the highway.
“I think it’s time for a burger and fries,” he says once we’re in the truck. “Want to hit the diner for lunch?”
I shouldn’t. What Ishoulddo is go back to the inn, make a sandwich, and isolate myself in my room. I need to dance it out. Reset myself, and shake off the uncharacteristically relaxed vibe so I can focus on the next task on the list.
“Let me show you the magic that is vinegar on your fries,” he adds when I don’t answer right away. After shifting the truck into gear, he gives me one more grin. “It’ll change your life.”
I actually kind of like the version of me I am with Rob, so what the hell, right? “Okay, Rob. Change my life.”
Chapter
Twelve
Rob
“You can’t just dump the vinegar on top.” Usually I wouldn’t make such a production out of getting my fries ready to eat, but trying to pretend to take me seriously when she thinks I’m being ridiculous is my favorite of Whitney’s expressions—the way the effort not to smile plays with her mouth is sexy as hell—and I don’t want to stop.
“No dumping vinegar,” she says, nodding. Then she pulls her notebook out of her bag and opens it to a fresh page. After clicking her pen, she looks at me expectantly.
“Wait. You’re not actually going to write that down, are you?”
She laughs and closes the book. “No.”
“I can never be sure with you because getting stuff done is your superpower and I’m pretty sure that notebook is your magical artifact.”
