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“It was… his house,” I admitted with a grimace.
Her thin lips made an “O.” Then she looked positively gleeful. “You seduced adoctor?”
“I didn’t seduce him, Mom,” I groaned. “He was really sweet. Seriously.”Technically, I’d say he seduced me. God only knows why.
She gave me a sly purse of her lips. “Oh, sure.”
“Ugh, Mom,” I rubbed my eyes with both hands.
“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I wouldn’t mind seeing him every Thanksgiving.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
Lachlan came back in, pocketing his phone, and gestured with his head toward the door. “Alright, it should be ready soon.”
“Thanks for your help, Mom,” I said, ushering Calla to stand.
Hannah looked from Lachlan to me, and she flashed a toothy grin. “Thank God for doctors.”
Fifteen
Lachlan
Domestic bliss was not on my radar. But then again, escorting Laurel and Calla through the local grocery store felt bizarrely great. Like I’d been missing out. For one thing, Calla had insisted on riding in my cart, and I felt like I’d been given the keys to the kingdom. Laurel’s bemused and baffled look only made it better. Like I was winning at something.
We went through the produce section first, and I filled my cart with the necessities I had abandoned the other day after rescuing Laurel. Laurel grabbed a bag of clementines and then trailed after me, watching with interest as I added kimchi, a few handfuls of vegetables, fruit, and a bag of sweet potatoes. I glanced at the way her eyes were dancing over my cart like she was trying to decipher a dead language. I doubled the items to make sure living things made their way into her house.
As we went down the bread aisle, Laurel automatically reached for a loaf of bleached, white bread. I narrowed my eyes. Laurel paused, sensing my look, and locked eyes with me. With her gaze still on mine, Laurel tentatively shifted her hand across the shelf toward the wheat bread. I sucked in my lips, trying to keep from smiling and raised my brows with a “yep,” kind of look.
With a sigh of disgust, Laurel swiped up a loaf of multi-grain bread and tossed it in her cart. “Bully,” she muttered.
Damn, she was cute.
“We’re not going to infect people, are we?” Laurel asked with a nervous shifty-eyed look around.
“Hey, Calla,” I said to the five-year-old sitting cross-legged in my cart.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Don’t lick anyone.”
She giggled and held up her pointer finger. “I will not lick people!”
I gave her a fist bump. “Nailed it.”
Laurel snorted. “Funny. Very funny. What is this? Are you two going to gang up on me the whole shopping trip?”
If I had my way, Calla and I would gang up on her a lot longer than one shopping trip. Not that I knew anything about dating a single mom, but it didn’t feel overly complicated. Yet.
Laurel threw a gigantic bag of marshmallows into her cart.
I eyed it suspiciously. “What are you doing with those?”
“I’m going to eat them,” she said, as if it were obvious. “With peanut butter. Usually, I dip them right in the jar and eat until I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“There’s something wrong with you,” I intoned.
She snatched up a turnip. “Oh yeah? Well, what the hell is this? It looks like a rock.”
