He looks up and focuses on me. For a split second, his expression softens, and I think I’m finally going to see him smile in person. A Christmas miracle, right here in the bread aisle? But his eyebrows tug back down, and his frown reappears.
“Why are there so many barbecue sauce options?” he asks.
I wheel my squeaky cart closer and move around it to stand next to him. We study the brown bottles with colorful labels. He’s right about the choices—there are probably thirty varieties here.
“That’s a problem?”
“They stopped carrying the brand I like.”
“Ah. So you have to try something new.” Not a task Reed Bridger enjoys or excels at.
His frown goes nuclear. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not learning anything about me here today.”
“Nope.” I try to tuck my smile between my teeth, but judging from Reed’s superhuman scowl, it doesn’t work. “I already knew that about you.”
He faces me fully, his arms automatically locking across his chest. A chest that’s making it hard for me to remember what I came to the store for. He’s not wearing his ubiquitous flannel-over-tee combo today. Leaving the way his short shirtsleeves hug his biceps in full view of my greedy eyes.
Seriously, he is the exact right combination of hard and soft. Which I definitely shouldn’t be thinking as a mother carrying her baby scoots past us to pick out bagels.
“What else do you think you know about me?” he asks.
“Lots of things.” I mirror his needlessly aggressive stance.
“Examples?”
“You say you take your coffee black, but you always add two spoons of sugar to it. You have minimal tolerance for customers who want to chat except for Mrs. Jackson, who you let talk your ear off. I think because you know she’s lonely since her husband passed away.”
His eyes widen a fraction, proving my guess right.
“And you have a secret sweet tooth. The coffee, but also…” I lean to the side to see the colorful box in his cart. “Lucky Charms?”
He shifts to block my view. “I concede your point. You know a few things about me.”
“We work together practically every day. Of course I’ve learned things about you. Just like you’ve learned things about me.” I lift a hand, expecting him to start spouting off a bullet-point list of everything he’s observed about me.
But he only stares.
“Or maybe you haven’t.” Maybe I’m the only one paying that much attention. Kind of tracks, honestly. I wasn’t called a try-hard in high school for nothing.
“I’ve learned things about you.” His words are so soft and low, they ripple across my skin. He hasn’t moved, but using that deep voice makes himfeelcloser.
“Like what?” I’m surprised he can hear me over the eighties pop hits playing through the grocery store’s speakers.
His gaze drifts down my face to my mouth before tracing back up to hook into mine. The hardness he typically wears like a suit of armor has melted away. He’s not open by a long shot, but there’s a glimmer of willingness there. “You have the most…”
He lets that pause drag out so long, I lean forward to make sure I don’t miss whatever he says next. But his gaze slips away, snagging on something behind me. The subtle softness I glimpsed just seconds ago solidifies again.
“Oh, no,” he groans.
“Is it a coffee cart video fan?” Three more girls came into the shop yesterday, ready to watch our romance play out in real life. Reed glared at them until they left.
“Worse. Prepare yourself.”
I turn around to see Sara and Russ Bridger heading our way. Their matching delighted grins don’t seem to warrant Reed’s bleak warning.
I’m not entirely sure what to do here, but since we put on a show for Lucy a couple of days ago, it’s only fair that their parents get the same level of mock romance. I slip my arm across Reed’s back, tucking myself against him. It’s a little worrying how easily I’m settling into our PDA.
Reed doesn’t seem to be settling in quite as well. He froze as soon as I touched him, but after a few seconds, his hand comes up to lightly rest on my hip. I’m not flattered by his delayed reaction time, but the pose is believably boyfriend-like.