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My pulse kicks.

Interesting.

Very fucking interesting.

I’m lost in thought, staring at his hands. And forearms. And his ass.

Mostly his ass.

Roman turns.

I jerk back into the aisle. My hip slams into a pyramid of canned tomatoes. It sways.

My eyes widen. “No.”

One can rolls.

I catch it.

Another falls.

I catch that one, too.

Three more shift.

“Oh, fuck me.”

I throw my body against the display.

It stops.

I stand there, arms wrapped around a pyramid of tomatoes.

A little boy stares at me from the other side of the aisle.

I stare back.

He points at me. “Mommy, that lady is hugging the tomatoes.”

His mother looks over.

I slowly release them. “I really like tomatoes.”

She pulls him closer.

I wait until they're gone, then peer around the corner.

Roman is farther down the aisle now.

Whew. He didn’t see me.

I smile. I'm getting really fucking good at this.

By the time Roman reaches the self-checkout, my basket contains one cantaloupe, crackers, Count Chocula, a jar of pickles I don't remember picking up, two cans of tomatoes, a box of tampons even though I have plenty at home, chocolate pudding, a bottle of ranch dressing, and one banana.

I stare at it.

When did I grab a banana? Or the pudding? Or the ranch?