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Somehow, she still didn’t think she was completely wrong.
“Can I help you?” Frankie croaked.
“He can helpme,” the older lady whispered, turning back to the register with wide eyes.
Okay, so elegance of the matching tote bag variety might not be Raven’s superpower, but she and the woman had at least alittlebit in common.
The older woman waggled her brows.
Raven giggled then went back to scanning and bagging.
But she was watching the man approach Frankie out of the corner of her eye. Her friend looked positively tiny next to him, like she could definitely be the woman he was taking to pound town while in the middle of that firefight—
Right.
That was probably enough thinking about sex. And Frankie. Though, she figured that she and Connor could make wall-banging happen if they got creative about it.
He was strong, and they were smart.
They could use physics to their advantage.
She should text him. They could plan—
The bell twinkled again, another customer coming in and thankfully breaking Raven out of her sex fog. She finished bagging, helped Ms. Elegant carry her bags to her car then came back in time to see Frankie swiping the man’s credit card.
Holy hell.
The view from behind was…chef’s kiss.
“Thank you,” he said and sounded like he meant it.
Politeandhot.
And Frankie had noticed too if her slightly squeaking voice and shaking hands were any indication when she passed over the Earthly Delights branded paper bag and said, “You’re very welcome.”
He smiled, took the bag, and left, prowling out like the big, yummy ball of muscle he was.
She waited as the bell tinkled again, waited as the door shut, and then turned to Frankie with wide eyes. “Who was that?” she asked softly.
“Lex Blackwell,” Frankie said, just as softly. Her mouth tipped up. “I spied his name on his credit card.”
“What did he buy?”
“Melatonin.” Frankie cleared the squeak from her throat. “And protein power—plant-based.” Hell, that sounded like her friend had fallen half in love already. “And a package of my granola bars.”
“I thought we were out of granola bars.”
Farmer’s market mornings meant the stock wentfast.
Frankie nibbled at her bottom lip. “I pulled out my emergency backup from the kitchen.”
Nope.
Raven was wrong.
Frankie had to befullyin love.
Her granola bars were her specialty, and sheneverrelinquished her emergency backups. Not for puppy dog eyes or hungry children or people willing to pay triple or quadruple the price.
