Page 25 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

“Hey. What are you doing here?” At seven on a Sunday. When I look like I just rolled out of bed, because that’s exactly what I did.

He pushes his own cart down the aisle and stops next to me. Which I guess is an improvement over last night when he couldn’t leave the bonfire fast enough. “I wasn’t sure if that was you or not.”

In my mind, I cycle through all the rumors he might have heard about us by now. Rumors he might think I started.

“Yep, it’s me.” Suddenly warm, I push up my hoodie sleeves.

“Stocking up on the essentials, I see.” He smiles like nothing is weird or unusual about this situation and points at my cart contents. Okay, maybe Charlotte was right.

“Our car wash fundraiser is next weekend.” I take in his image. Black pants, white button-up shirt. Bow tie. All under the ever-present faux leather jacket. How does he look so put together so early? “You going to a wedding or something?” Maybe that’s why he headed out early, to get a good night of sleep before a big event.

Rhoads furrows his brows in question, then assesses his own appearance and laughs. “Ah, no. Work. This is the uniform. Have a long shift today. So I had to get here early.”

I peek at his cart. Bottles of glycerin and glitter. An assortment of paints. I raise my eyebrows at him. “For craft supplies?”

He shrugs as if this is the most normal thing he could be buying. “Hobby stuff.”

“I would not have pegged you as a glitter guy.”

“I’m an enigma.” He winks, and I die a little as he quotes me. “And I didn’t know you loved sponges so much.” He picks up a sponge and squishes it.

“Fair enough. Don’t judge a person by their cart. So…” We’ve reached the point in the conversation when we could part ways, but I find myself wanting to continue. Even though I should have run in the opposite direction the moment I heard him call my name. I rack my brain for something to say. “Lemon, you think?” I point to the wall of neon products.

“I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

“So…are we going to talk about the bonfire?” I hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but this is what happens when I stay up late, get up early, and have two mochas before ten o’clock. My brain and mouth lose the ability to work together.

Rhoads flinches. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry about that. Something came up.” He glances down into his own cart and ruffles his hair.

“So you said.”

His eyes have clouded over. Whatever it was must have really bothered him. A forced smile pinches his cheeks. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

“Not really. The usual shenanigans.” I shrug. “Not really my scene, you know? If it were up to me, I would have spent the evening running drills and watching game tape.”

“Why’d you change your mind?”

“Piper.” I smooth the wayward hairs that have fallen out of my ponytail and onto my forehead. “She was relentless. Kept going on and on about how I had to be there. Like she thought something really important was going to happen.”

Rhoads’s eyes brighten, a bit of that cloud dispersing. The corners of his lips relax. “And did it?”

“Not unless you count Gregory Chambliss dropping a fully toasted marshmallow onto Macy Summer’s lap.”

Rhoads’s lips twitch into a half smile. “Maybe next time, then. Unfortunately, I’ve got to get to work. But I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rhoads says. “Prepare to bring your A-game, Baker.”

Right. Our first training session. I’m totally not nervous about that. I clear my throat. “Good luck with your crafts.”

He tosses me an amused look over his shoulder. The wheels of his cart squeak.

That boy is definitely some kind of trouble.

But I can handle him.

At least, I hope I can.

Ten

RHOADS