"Okay, Scarlett O'Hara," she snorted, but looking over her shoulder like I was, I could see that she was smiling.
"So... green beans or Brussels sprouts?"
"Green beans," she said as I moved away. Then she went to as well, but away from me.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going, lil' lady?" I asked, grabbing her arm and spinning her back, catching her off-guard, and making her collide with my chest with a laugh.
"This is not one of those Harlequin Romance commercials," she said, looking around anxiously at the spectacle we were making of ourselves. "Knock it off. You're making a scene."
"Aw now... that wasn't a very smart thing to say," I said, smiling. "Because now I need to show you what a real scene is," I added as my arm wrapped around her lower back, arching her backward as I moved forward.
"Whoa... wait... what are you..."
"You want Harlequin Romance, baby, I'm gonna give it to you."
And with that, before I could even wipe the smile off my face at the huge eyes on hers, I leaned down and kissed her until her hands were grabbing my shoulders, until her body melted, until I was the only thing keeping her from free-falling backward onto the ground.
Then and only then did I pull away, promising myself that we could get back to those kinda thing later, after I fed her, in private so they could escalate the way it seemed we both wanted them to.
"Alright, green beans," I said, pulling her back upward with me, arm still around her until she got her footing, hearing a couple claps from afar, and completely ignoring them.
"Ah... what?"
Yeah, there was no stopping the grin that threatened to split my face right then. I kissed the woman senseless.
"Green beans," I reiterated. "You need a minute?" I asked, watching as she reached up to push her hair back.
"I, ah, yeah. I'll be right back. I need, um, apples and stuff."
"Meet you at checkout," I offered to her quickly retreating form.
Oh yeah.
I was going to have some fun with her later.SEVENScottiSo... that happened.
I was pretty sure things like that never actually happened in real life. You know, because other people were around, and it was silly, and guys - in my personal experience - weren't exactly into grand romantic displays. Not even with long-time girlfriends. Or wives.
Yet there was Mark Mallick, couples-pushing a shopping cart, whirling me around, and bending me backward and kissing me in the damn produce aisle.
And he didn't even know my real last name.
I guess it seemed to sort of go with his, as he said, boyish charm. He didn't care what people thought of his a bit over the top, fun-loving antics. And maybe he got a pass for them because he was so freaking good looking that all he had to do was flash a smile and all was forgiven.
That kiss, as goofy as it might have been, was still effective. I could barely force my legs to carry me as I walked away from him, making sure I was out of sight before I leaned back against an end cap and pulled myself together. If I didn't, I would be jumping his bones as soon as we walked in the door. And while true, I did want to do that, I also didn't want to rush things either. I wanted to enjoy the day, see what he had planned, not rush into the physical stuff.
Though, oh man, I bet the physical stuff would be worth rushing into.
Mind back on the task, I picked up apples, cinnamon, puff pastry, and some stuff to make icing from scratch, then made my way toward the register to find Mark casually standing next to a cart and reading the ridiculous tabloid headlines.
"Hey, did you know our senator is a zombie? Apparently, this established 'news' outlet has empirical proof."
"Shit. Do we need to head back to the baking aisle and get you some tinfoil for that hat you will obviously be needing?" I quipped dryly, making a deep chuckle roll through his chest as he threw an arm around my shoulders, and pressed a quick, sweet, disarming kiss to my temple.
Damn him.
As odd as it may have been to think, being around him was a lot like a warm hug on a bad day, a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a rainy night, half a dozen blankets when you want to hide from the world.
He was... comforting.
Which was absurd given that I didn't know him from Adam. But feelings weren't rational things. I had accepted that about the first time I had had an epic shitfit over the breakup of a fictional couple on a show I was obsessed with as a young teen. Sure, they weren't real, but they felt real, damnit.
Okay, maybe I still wasn't completely over that whole situation.