Page 32 of Breaking the Ice

She punches my shoulder lightly. “When have you ever studied for a test?”

“Not before I met you, that’s for sure.” I rub my shoulder, pretending it hurts, and mouth “ouch.” It didn’t.

“The answer is The Silver Spoon.” She preens a little, making her dress sway.

“Then obviously yes, I’m in.” What I don’t tell her is that I would have agreed to go with her if she wanted to get ice cream at a mechanics’ shop. I’ve got it bad for this girl.

When she smiles again, brown eyes shining, a bolt of desire mixed with hope shoots through me. Because maybe she’s into me, too.

Chapter

Fourteen

ISABELLA

Isabella: I’ll be home late. I had to run out for essentials. Do you need anything?

Mom: A pint of Haagen-Dazs?

Isabella: Dark chocolate raspberry?

Mom: Yes, please. And you’re almost out of coffee creamer.

Isabella: I’ll grab some of that, too. Thanks.

Mom: Be safe!

Isabella: Always.

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, but Walmart is pretty quiet. There’s something almost soothing about shopping late at night. Lafayette is a college town, so nothing is ever truly empty, no matter the hour, but I take a deep breath. It’s kind of Zen after ten p.m.

Putting another package of Twizzlers in my cart, I glance up and spy a familiar figure across the store. Those broad shoulders, that blonde hair. My lady parts stand up and take notice.

Figures. The week you’re on strike, you’d still be interested in Evan, I berate my uterus. It merely shrugs back.

But what’s he doing? He’s abandoned his cart a few steps away and stares into space in front of the futons. They really aren’t that fascinating. Is he okay?

My cart has a wonky wheel and pulls to the left, but I steer it over to him anyway. Tapping his finger on his chin, he doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me, kind sir, can you help me get one of those down off the top shelf?”

“What? Oh, um, yeah.” He blinks, and when he recognizes me, a slow, magnificent smile spreads across his face. My entire mid-section, which hates life, tingles with warmth. “Isabella! What are you doing here?”

I spread an arm out, encompassing my cart. “You know. Getting groceries. All the leftover Halloween candy is on sale.”

Evan raises a brow as he takes in my shopping—a box of tampons, Midol heating pads, ice cream, Twizzlers, sour gummy worms, Swedish Fish, and Nerds gummy clusters. “Are you okay?”

I bristle. “No, Evan, I’m not okay. My uterus has decided it would like to make a run for it, and the process sucks. I’m bloated, irritable, and cramping.”

His eyes widen and he lifts his hands in a surrender motion. “Buy whatever you need. No judgement here.”

I peek at his cart—beer, White Claw, and potato chips. “Like you have room to talk.”

“Groceries, like you said.”

“But also, potato chips sound good.”

“Here.” He takes a bag out of his cart and shoves it into my arms. “You need them more than me.”