Only if he wants his lips ripped off his face. Jessica crossed her arms over her chest and let him dig himself either out of or deeper into the hole he was in.
“Not a kiss.”
; Jessica was glad he was digging himself out, not further in.
The woman’s arms loosened, and she took a half step away. “Then what?”
Sed pulled his wallet out of his pocket and fished out a bill. He handed her a dollar.
The disappointment on the woman’s face was priceless. Jessica pursed her lips so she didn’t burst into laughter.
“A dollar?” the woman said breathlessly. “I pledge my undying love for you and your stupid band, and you give me a dollar?”
“A five?” Sed pulled out a larger bill.
“I want your shirt,” she said. “And a kiss.”
“No kiss.” But the fool peeled his shirt off and handed it to her.
Let the hole digging begin, Jessica thought.
Fangirl lifted the shirt to her nose and inhaled. God, why did they always do that? The woman’s eyes rolled back, and she swayed. Sed caught her by the shoulders to steady her.
Mighty deep hole you’re digging there, sweetheart.
Before he could react to stop her, the fangirl kissed his chest—directly in the center of the lion tattoo that decorated his skin—and then dashed away, his shirt clutched against her body. Jessica started after her, but Sed caught her arm and shook his head sternly.
“I still love you,” Fangirl called, kicking up sand as she jogged backwards down the beach. “Hope you get divorced soon!”
“How nice,” Jessica said under her breath.
Sed wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against his side. “How do you feel about eating in tonight?”
“And avoid meeting more of your delightful fangirls?”
“Exactly.”
“You read my mind.”
Chapter Four
The next morning, Sed—disguised in a hoodie, sunglasses, and a day’s growth of beard—followed Jessica through the grocery aisles after they decided they’d attempt cooking together. Sed worried using the stove might signal a fiery end to their honeymoon with, well, a fire, but they had to eat, and Jessica seemed so excited by the prospect of them cooking together that he couldn’t refuse. He’d always hated grocery shopping, but it wasn’t so bad when Jessica was with him. And he didn’t want her to do the shopping alone. She never had to do anything alone that she didn’t want to do alone ever again. He would always be beside her. Unless he died.
Gripped by an unexpected flash of anguish, Sed steadied himself with a deep breath. He’d had the dream again the night before. Again Jessica had comforted him in the night and again he’d been unable to confide his fears to her. The unexpected loss of the most important man in his life definitely birthed the dread he felt, but it seemed that anything could set him into that panicked feeling these days. Seeing Jessica happy—which was wonderful—made him worry about how unhappy she’d be when he died. It was such a morbid thought, he couldn’t share it with her. They were honeymooning, for fuck’s sake. But the idea of Jess grieving for him the way his mother grieved for his father tormented Sed night and day. He never wanted her to suffer or feel alone or sad.
“Iceberg or romaine?” Jessica asked.
Sed turned his attention to the two heads of lettuce she held out in front of her.
“You’re planning to put that on a burger, I hope,” he said.
“It won’t kill you to eat salad.”
He licked his lips—her uttering the word kill sent him into dark thoughts again—and glanced away. “Get what you like.”
“You’re eventually going to have to tell me what’s bothering you.”
He forced a smile, glad he’d been smart enough to wear his sunglasses today, and not just to prevent overzealous fangirls from recognizing him. “Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Right,” she said, placing both heads of lettuce into their cart. “But you’d feel better if you told me what that nothing was.”
“How about some cabbage?” he asked, reaching for a pale green head. “I love cabbage!”
“You do?”
It was okay, but he felt compelled to distract her so she’d stop worrying about what was bothering him. “My grandmother used to make the best cabbage rolls.”
Jessica brightened, and it was all he could do not to toss her into the produce bin and have his way with her. That smile of hers always sent a surge of testosterone through his body.
“I’ll make you some,” she said.
“You know how?”
She shrugged. “How hard can it be?” She pushed the cart a few feet and then stopped to pull her phone out of her purse. She searched online for a recipe and scowled at the screen. “These cabbage rolls are really high in fat.”
“Do they have mayonnaise on them?” He couldn’t help but tease her about her bizarre cravings for the most fattening of condiments.
She elbowed him in the gut. “Not until I put it on them.”
She lifted a cantaloupe in one hand and a honeydew in the other. “Which melon do you prefer?”
“Yours. Should I make sure it’s ripe?”
“Sed!” she admonished, but she shifted one boob between the other two melons. It was definitely the best-looking melon of the three.
“I think you’re supposed to tap them.” He tapped the cantaloupe. “Or is it thump them?” He flicked a finger against the honeydew.
Her eyes widened.
“Wait, I remember. You’re supposed to squeeze them.” He palmed her breast, and the tighter he squeezed, the deeper she drew in her breath. He bet her pussy would be a tight fit at that moment—slick and hot.
A young man—eyes fixed on their inappropriate melon demonstration—walked into a bin of apples and sent them tumbling across the floor. Startled, he backed into the oranges and knocked over a crate, adding to the chaos. Jessica lowered the melons and returned them to their displays before grabbing the cart and hurrying to the next aisle.
“Merv,” said a voice over the store’s intercom, “cleanup in produce.”
Jessica rushed down the aisle, giggling. “We need to swing by the ice cream section.”
“Can’t forget the Rocky Road.” She requested him to buy it for her more often than mayonnaise.
“Or the strawberry syrup.”
“On Rocky Road?” Yuck.
“No. On you.”
Well, okay, then. That sounded like a dessert he could enjoy even more than she would.
While they were waiting in the checkout line, a small paperback caught Sed’s eye. He picked up Fifty Fast Feasts for Fit Families and tossed it into the cart.
“Someone probably got us a cookbook as a wedding gift,” Jessica said.
All their wedding gifts were at his place—now their place—yet to be opened. It was possible that they now owned dozens of new cookbooks. “If it’s a copy of Fifty Fast Feasts for Fit Families, I’ll be offended.”
“Offended? Why? Just hearing you say the title is a priceless gift.” She pressed her tongue against her upper teeth to cut off a laugh, but short bursts of air huffed out her nose in a most adorable way.
“It costs like five bucks.” Sed tossed a hand in the direction of the cheap publication. “And it’s in the checkout line.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Jessica said.
“If that’s how much a friend or family member thinks of me when buying my wedding gift, then yeah, I’m offended.”
“I didn’t say it was one of your friends or family members. That’s probably what my cousin Fred bought us.”
He laughed and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Then we’ll return that copy and buy volume two: Multiple Magnificent Mayonnaise-Masked Meals.”
“Deal.” She pecked him on the lips before stepping forward to unload their cart onto the conveyor belt.
He nudged her aside. “Let me do that.”
She straightened and planted a fist on both hips. “I’m perfectly capable of unloading a fucking grocery cart.”
God, he loved that temper of hers. He couldn’t help but fire it up a bit more. “Oh yeah? Prove it.?
?
She snatched a pound of ground turkey out of the cart and plopped it down on the belt.
“Wow, you do have mean skills,” he said, faux applauding. He lifted two cases of water in one go and set them on the belt behind the forward-moving meat.
Jessica grabbed a head of lettuce in each hand and tossed them on the counter before reaching for the head of cabbage. Sed blocked her like a basketball player who didn’t care if he got a penalty and seized the cabbage.
“I didn’t want that cabbage anyway,” she snapped, going for a jar of her favorite brand of mayonnaise instead.
Sed tossed the cabbage from one palm to the next and around his back in his best Harlem Globetrotters impersonation. Jess pretended to slam-dunk her mayonnaise on the belt. She then rebounded the jar and scored again.
“Double points for me.”
“Illegal maneuver!” Sed shouted. “I get a free throw.” He took his shot with a roll of paper towels and almost hit the cashier when the roll ricocheted off the belt. She caught the towels in one hand, scanned the package, and stuffed it into a sack.
The cashier watched the continuing unloading-the-cart competition, a bemused expression on her face. By the time the cart was empty, everyone in line behind them was either smiling at their fun or looking incredibly annoyed by their immaturity.
“Was anyone keeping score?” Sed asked the spectators.
“She won,” said a young man who was watching Jessica a bit too appreciatively for Sed’s liking. It was the same guy who’d ogled them in the produce section.
Sed slipped an arm around Jess’s back and stole a kiss. “I know when I’m bested,” he said. “Name your prize, wife.” He wasn’t sure how Jessica felt about being called wife—she might take the sentiment as patronizing—but he wanted to make it clear to Mr. Interested that Jessica was all his. Legally and otherwise.
Jessica stood on tiptoe and whispered into Sed’s ear, “Sex in the back seat on the way home.”
His lower belly tightened with instant need. “You won, babe. It’s supposed to be your prize, not mine.”
“That is my prize,” she said.
Sed was the luckiest man alive.