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He seems amused by me. I’ll take it over his angry eyes that are sure to appear the moment I exit the car. When he opens the door wider, I slip by him. We walk together into Warren’s. I immediately search for the Mrs. Claus cashier so she can take responsibility for all of this. She’s nowhere in sight. In fact, if it wasn’t for her notebook, I would think my anuptaphobia (fear of being single—yes, I Googled it and it’s a thing) made me dream her up.
I latch onto a gangly teenage employee walking by.
“Is there a trendy older woman with short spiky hair working today?”
His freckled face lights with recognition. “Oh, our temp worker? No, she got fired for giving products away.”
She did seem like a generous soul. Does this mean my notebook is considered stolen property? I gulp. I’ll give a generous tip when I leave. I shake my head, needing to focus. Apparently, the gossip about me and Rockwell is a problem I have to solve on my own. I don’t even notice the cinnamon pinecones or the blaring music as I stealthily dart farther into the store. I’m too worried someone we know will see us and say something. Rockwell grabs a cart while I hover by a pyramid stack of Instant Pots, scanning faces.
“Are you buying one of these?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I already own one.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to grab some fruit and veggies.”
“Good choice. Fiber is important, especially this time of year. Lots of tummy aches at school.” I step beside him because his large form hides mine if I stay exactly in step with him. I need to make it around the corner and then I can dart back home, and he can keep grocery shopping.
“Well, I don’t exactly share your passion for fiber, but I did want to chat about something else. My mom stopped by this morning.”
“Yeah?” I glance behind him and see Jocelyn’s dad. He won’t say anything, but I still don’t wave to be safe. I look back at Rockwell. “How did it go?”
“After she got over the shock of me staying in an empty place instead of with her, I told her we aren’t dating.”
My brows jump and he has my full attention. “You did? Did it go well?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she didn’t believe me.”
My laugh comes out a little choked. “Oh.”
“It’s fine. She’ll get over it.”
I elbow him. He shouldn’t be concerned how I’ll feel about rumors. His mom is more important. “I thought you were going to be gentle?”
He chuckles. “I tried hard. I promise. She’s stubborn. Don’t get me wrong, I love her. I love her so much that I want to be the one taking care of her. I wish she would listen.” He puts a couple of bananas into his cart and steers toward the bags of baby carrots.
“So, are you mad about it?” I pick up a cucumber even though I don’t have plans on buying it, but I do need to do something with my hands.
“Nah. Let her think what she wants. When I return to the city, she’ll see that you and I didn’t go anywhere.”
“Except to the store,” I say lightly. Nothing for anyone to get excited about.
He takes my cucumber from me and sets it in the cart. “Except to the store.” He tilts his head to the side. “And since I owe you after last night, maybe to dinner?”
I whip my head to look at him—because I have to be dreaming. And bam. I hit my knee on a stand of fruit. I wince and my body automatically shrinks as I curl in over my knee. Rockwell puts his arm around my waist to help me up.
“Woah, you okay?”
I try to stand and my knee smarts. “Yep. Just a little embarrassed.”
“Brie!” I hear my name called and look up. It’s Gabby’s mom, Mrs. Fiore. I’d rather hit my knee again twenty times than answer, but how can I not?
“Hi, Mrs. Fiore.”
“Is that Rockwell Davenport?” Mrs. Fiore is a close generational look-alike to Gabby with her dark hair and high cheekbones, but she has stronger Italian features in her than Gabby does.
