Page 160 of Just One Little Bargain

“That’s not an answer.” Her jaw tightens. “Whatever. You know where the keys are.” She turns on her heel.

She’s gone again before I can say anything else.

I don’t know the first thing about spa nights, but I know how to learn. And when it comes to Evie, I intend to get every last detail right. I may not be the man who gets to keep her, but tonight, I’ll make damn sure she knows what it feels like to be cherished by me.

Chapter 46

Milo

Iwalk into Caldwell Fine Foods with one objective: find matcha.

The store assistant in the baking aisle wears a green apron that clashes violently with her bright magenta lipstick. Her plastic name tag reads SUZANNA. She pauses halfway through stacking a row of flour bags, tucking a sharp, asymmetrical wedge of dark hair behind her ear when I hold up Daisy’s scrawled list.

“Excuse me,” I say politely. “Could you direct me to the matcha and tell me what it looks like?”

Suzanna narrows her eyes at the paper. “The powder requires a bamboo whisk and entirely too much patience. Save yourself the grief and go buy a matcha latte from Honeybee’s down the street.”

“I have been strictly instructed to acquire the powder.”

She shifts her attention from the paper to my wire shopping basket. I’ve already collected an arsenal of relaxation items. She scrutinizes the sheet masks, the absurd volume of peppermint tea, and the sheer number of tealights. Her perfectly arched eyebrows inch upward as she pieces the inventory together.

“Hold up.” She looks back up at my face. “You’re Milo, right? Evie’s fella.”

“I don’t believe she’s called me that.”

“You’re setting up a date for her?”

“Thank you for the matcha advice.” I take a step back, but Suzanna snatches the paper out of my reach. “I can manage from here.”

“Oh, honey. You need supervision.” She reaches into my basket and extracts a bag of chocolate chips. She tosses it onto a nearby shelf without a second glance. “If you’re wooing Evie, we’re not cheaping out on the cocoa percentages. Follow me.”

“That’s very kind. But I don’t want to disrupt your shift.”

“My inventory can wait.” Suzanna marches toward the next aisle with my list still in hand. I follow because asking her to return it now seems rude.

As she walks, she fills my basket with salted caramels, honey-roasted almonds, different cheeses, and a box of dark chocolate truffles wrapped with a bow.

“Those look expensive.”

“They’re excellent.”

“That wasn’t my concern.”

A woman at the end of the aisle pauses her inspection of canned soup. I recognize her from the festival. Rebecca. She spots me, gives me a slow, delighted smirk, and pulls a cell phone from her purse. Her thumbs fly across the screen.

“Romance rarely respects a budget.” Suzanna raises her voice while inspecting two packets of face masks. “Hydrating or brightening?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does Evie’s skin need?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Hydrating, then.” She drops both packets into the basket anyway. “And no matcha powder. You’ll make paste and somehow end up ruining a towel. Trust me on that.”

Suzanna keeps talking as she adds three bags of gourmet popcorn to the basket. “Sea salt, caramel apple, and white cheddar. Excellent snacks, minimal effort, and people always eat more than they think they will.”

I pick up a bag of truffle parmesan.