Page 31 of Shifter Situations

My smart-ass reply was laced with amusement. “A grocery store.”

She huffed at me as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I mean, I know that much, but why?”

“We need food to cook, Barbie,” I informed her before walking around to open her door.

“Franklin could have ordered everything for us and had it delivered. Also, I’ve already told you that I can’t cook, so there’s no we with that.”

“I’m going to start teaching you. Grab a cart.”

She chortled as we walked in. “Uh-huh, good luck with that.”

We strolled up and down the aisles, and she dropped all kinds of bullshit into the cart. I felt like an asshole as I picked all the random items out and shoved them back on the shelves.

I finally took the cart from her and growled, “Put your hands in your pockets. We don’t need any of that. I’m almost done.”

When we reached the checkout counter, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to sigh or laugh. I hadn’t seen her put anything else in the cart, but mixed in with the food was… shit.

A pack of balloons, flexible straws, socks with bacon strips on them, and fucking Sharpie markers.

“When did we pass—” I stopped and rubbed at my forehead with my middle finger. “Did you take this stuff out of other people’s carts?”

She blinked owlishly. “Possibly.”

The cashier chuckled at us, keeping her head down as her nostrils flared. She was a fox, and she’d be quick to spread the sight of us around. Sloane caught my thoughts and glanced around, picking out other nearby shifters.

After we paid and loaded the bags into the backseat, I drove back to the cabin a little faster than I’d driven to town. We mulled over who we’d seen and scented until we parked in front of our cabin.

Barbie turned to me, gnawing her bottom lip before inquiring, “You think it was enough?”

“The fox will do all the work for us,” I assured her. “Now, let’s go inside. We’re going to make some chocolate chip cookies.”

* * *

“You’re supposed to cook that…” I left my suggestion hanging as she shoved a spoonful of dough into her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose. “No. It’s cookie dough. You're just supposed to eat it.”

“You’re intentionally making this hard,” I grumbled.

“I’m trying to enjoy a quick treat before we get to the real treats.” She waggled her brows at me.

I dragged my middle finger up and down my forehead. “There won’t be any real treats if you don’t stop eating all the dough. And you’re going to get salmonella.”

“I have never.” She gasped dramatically. “I eat cookie dough all the time. I happen to love chocolate in all forms.”

“Yeah, but… have you ever eaten the cookies that it makes?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Gods, Barbie,” I muttered, holding my hands out for the bowl. “Give me the dough or come over here so we can make the actual cookies.”

“Nope.”

“Barbie…” I growled in warning, wiggling my fingers.

She narrowed her eyes at me in challenge, taking a step backward before she zoomed away. Her laughter bounced around the walls of the cabin as she took off with the whole bowl of cookie dough.

I gave chase, catching her in the living room with the guys. She took a scoop of dough off the spoon, placing it in her left palm as she heated her skin. Then she presented it to me with a sarcastic curtsy.