“Shit!” I squeaked as we collided.
The man dropped the bottle of contact solution he was holding, but he quickly picked it up. “Sorry about that.”
“My fault,” I said with an apologetic smile as he adjusted his glasses.
He cracked a smile and stepped to the side so I could pass. “Have a good one.”
I did a double take as he headed to the other side of the store.
His ass wasphenomenal.There was something about men in gym shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that did it for me every time.
And the glasses were sexy.
I slipped down the aisle that housed condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests. Scanning the shelves, I found exactly what I wanted.
A vibrator.
It wasn’t anything fancy, but it would do the trick. My old one had died from overuse, and tonight was the night to replace it. Something about seeing my two best friends be blissfully in love with their spouses made me feel extra single.
But hey—I could get myself off better than any partner. Who needed men when I had a battery-operated boyfriend who never let me down?
Best of all, I could put him in a drawer when I was done with him.
I snagged a pack of batteries and headed to the register with my haul.
Closed.
I stared at the sign slapped on the self-checkouts and growled. This is what self-checkouts were for! For buying vibrators and tampons and condoms and hemorrhoid cream!
“Over here,” the elderly cashier called, gesturing to the lone open register. The line stretched eight customers deep.
Great.
“Fancy meeting you here,” the man said as he lined up behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder as I hoisted the items higher into my arms. I wasn’t about to feel shame for buying fruity alcohol and an orgasm-in-a-box. I was taking care of my needs. It was perfectly normal.
“Big night?” he asked.
And just like that, the hunky Clark Kent fantasy was ruined.Screw him and his judgmental amusement.
I turned and gave him an annoyed once-over. “Why ask someone else to do what you can do ten times better and faster yourself?”
He held his hands and the contact solution up in surrender, but the smirk on his mouth didn’t make him look all that sorry. “Just making conversation, cupcake.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Cupcake?”
“The frosting hair.”
A single syllable scoff escaped my mouth. “Wow. Okay.”
We shuffled forward as two customers exited the store, but the silence didn’t last long. “It’s cute on you. Reminds me of those sugar cookies with the buttercream icing and sprinkles.”
I loved those cookies, but Mr. Hot Stranger didn’t get to know that. I didn’t turn around or acknowledge his comment. I just wanted to buy my vibrator in peace.
“But you’re not sweet, are you?” he said. “Maybe a little sweet, but it’s not your top note.” His smile cracked a little wider. “Do you like rosé?”
Okay, that was strange. My hair was the color of the label of my favorite rosé.
