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“It’s July 6,” he says. “Why?”
“Because I want to remember it as the day I made Harrison Cole laugh. I’ll celebrate it every year by making offerings to the Holy Saint of PPOs, leaving tidings of aviator sunglasses and stiff upper lips.”
He’s shaking his head at me. “And you said I wasn’t normal.”
“It takes one to know one.”
He’s trying hard not to smile, I can tell.
* * *
Is it weird that I get excited every time I go to Costco? I mean, the place is generally chaotic, but there’s something about buying in bulk that makes me feel like an accomplished adult. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you need a membership card. I’ve wanted to belong to an exclusive club ever since I read The Baby-Sitters Club.
“Have you ever been to a Costco?” I ask him as we grab a cart and wheel it into the store, one of the staff checking my card to make sure I’m a member. I wave it at him with satisfaction.
“No,” Harrison says, taking off his sunglasses and slipping them into his front pocket. He looks around the giant store with its towering aisles. “First time for everything.”
“Okay, but you’re going to need to have a hot dog.”
His brow quirks up in amusement. “A hot dog?”
“Yes. They do awesome hot dogs.”
“You bloody Americans and your hot dogs.”
I smack him across the chest. “You’re in Canada. You’re going to get a poutine dog if you’re not careful.”
“Dare I ask what that is?”
I shake my head. “You’re not ready for it.”
We walk through the aisles, Harrison reading groceries off his list. Because I’m not used to frequenting Costco as much as my local Country Grocer, I forget where things are, so there’s an awful lot of going back and forth across the store. Of course, I also want to stop at every single station that’s handing out free samples.
The first time around, Harrison stood back as I munched on some kind of chutney and crackers. With his lip curled, he looked utterly disgusted at the idea of someone just handing out food like this. But by the time I got on to the chocolate chip cookies, he was intrigued enough to have some too.
I watch as he munches on the tiny crumbles, his eyes lighting up.
“Perhaps we should grab a bag of these cookies,” he says, eyeing the display beside the person handing out the samples.
“See, this is how they get you,” I tell him, reaching over and grabbing a bag and tossing it in the cart.
“I feel victimized,” he says. “They bait you first with the free samples, then they swindle you into buying it.”
At that, he reaches over and takes yet another sample from the station, giving the person a wink.
“You know it’s one sample per customer,” I whisper to him as we walk away. “If word gets out that the royals’ bodyguard is trying to game the Costco sample system, it won’t look good.”
He leans into me, and I find myself holding my breath. “It will be our little secret, then.”
Then he straightens up and I’m slowly exhaling through my nose. Sheesh, he oughta warn me when he comes in close like that; it’s like I freeze and go into shock. If I breathed in his scent, my eyes would roll back in my head.
The rest of the shopping trip goes normally, with Harrison back to avoiding the samples again, and it feels like we’ve gotten everything we needed, and then some.
Though sometimes, just sometimes, I get this feeling that there’s heat in his gaze. The way I caught his eyes drifting over my chest when he thought I wasn’t looking, how his fingers brushed against mine as we both reached for the Kirkland bacon, how he guided me out of the store with his hand at the small of my back. Not to mention the peonies he picked up. Two for Monica and Eddie, but one bouquet for me.
I didn’t find that out until I drove through the gates back home and parked in front of the royals’ house.
“These are for you,” he said as he reached into the back seat and handed me one of the peony bouquets.
I stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then at the pink flowers in my hand. He continued by saying, “It’s a thank-you. For being so helpful and understanding.”
Aka don’t get any wrong ideas about this ten-dollar purchase.
But still, even as a gesture, it was sweet.
Then I popped the question.
“You know how you can really show me your appreciation? Come with me to the Blowhole on Friday.”
He looked offended at the suggestion. “Why would you even want to go to that?”
“To show them all I’m not afraid.” I hesitated. “I’d feel safer if you were there.”
“Do you want me to go as protection or as a friend?”
