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“I think I’ll pass, but thank you for asking,” Abi said, pushing the cart another few inches and taking a step away from him. He followed—drat him—and double drat the bit of triumph that uncurled in her lower belly when he did. Just because the man was set on vexing her did not mean she had any reason to feel triumphant when her deduction was correct. All that meant was that she was observant. Which, strictly speaking, was a thing she already knew about herself.
“You smell good,” he said, and his breath prickled down the delicate column of her neck. Abi clenched her entire body so she wouldn’t shiver.
“People can see us,” Abi hissed, her eyes darting around the Produce area. There weren’t that many people around, and none of them seemed to be paying attention to whatever was happening next to the lettuce, but that was beside the point.
“Hm, good point,” Ilan said, his arms coming around her, his hands closing over the bar of the shopping cart. Abi literally bit her tongue to stop herself from yelling an expletive. He herded her to the small room off of the main produce section where the wine and fresh flowers were stored. It wasn’t enclosed—there were windows—and the entrance and exit were open, but it gave the appearance of seclusion. Abi’s feet shuffled as he steered the cart—and by extension her—behind a display of Boston ferns.
“What are you doing?” she made herself use her Principal Voice. This voice that was known to transport grown adults right back to their childhood. This voice that had been known to stop snotty waiters and too-familiar cab drivers in their tracks. And this same voice that had once reduced a neighbor’s Doberman Pinscher to rolling on his back to show her his belly for weeks after the one time he peed on her bougainvillea.
“I like it when you talk to me like you’re about to put me in time out,” Ilan said, entirely unphased by her tone.
“I’m not interested in your hot for teacher kink,” Abi said, hoping she sounded prim, knowing damn well the way her voice cracked just then ruined the effect.
“Good, that’s not what this is,” Ilan said, At some point once they were behind the fern, Abi turned to fully look at him. He was still holding the shopping cart, and it felt reassuring against her hip. Supportive, perhaps. But also, he was so close that she could feel his body heat through the thin material of the cardigan and even through her jeans. She could feel her body responding to him, and she didn’t like it.
She didn’t hate it, but she still didn’t like it.
“You can’t just accost me in the grocery store,” Abi said, her fingers curling around his forearm, and she couldn’t help but notice how good her hand looked on his skin. His bare, tanned forearms. Whoever convinced the world that Henleys were a solid wardrobe choice deserved one of thosethanks from humanityawards. She wondered if the Nobel people would get on that, but then she decided they probably already had.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Ilan pointed out, one of his hands leaving the shopping cart to skim her hip. His fingers hooked in her belt loop, his thumb teasing under the cardigan.
“You’ve said a lot of things,” Abi said, hoping she sounded like she knew what she was talking about and not like a dippy teenager about to have her first tongue kiss.
“What’s with all the rabbit food,” Ilan said, indicating her cart. Abi glanced in the basket, it wasn’tthatmuch, was it? She was used to the farmer’s market and bringing her own shopping bags. Maybe she had grabbed more produce than she normally would.
“Guinea pig,” Abi said automatically.
“Sorry?” Ilan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“I have guinea pigs, not rabbits,” Abi said, hoping they could change the subject.
“You… have… seriously?” he did not look any less confused, and she said a word she would definitely put any one of the preschoolers in timeout for.
“Guinea pigs are perfectly reasonable pets,” she said, wondering why she was defensive. Maybe it was because they were still new pets. Or maybe it was because one was currently amassing a vet bill that would rival a down payment on a new car.
“For a tween, maybe,” Ilan said, “Is this like a school mascot thing?”
“Are you really shaming me over my pets?” Abi said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. She was aware that this meant she was effectively drawing his attention to her breasts, but that didn’t make her back down.
“I’m—not, I mean,” he floundered, his fingers tightened at her hip, and she almost took pity on his confusion. The man clearly wasn’t expecting the conversation to go this way. “I guess guinea pigs are fine, do you have a herd?”
“Of guinea pigs?” Abi said, now she was confused. She looked over her shoulder at the cart again. She should probably put back one or two of the bunches of red lettuce.
“Is that a thing? A herd of guinea pigs?” he said, his head tilting to the side as he thought about it. Abi took a moment to appreciate the line of his jaw and then wondered why that’s where her brain went.
“I think a group of guinea pigs is called a muddle,” Abi said, resisting the urge to go for her phone to look it up.
“I kinda love that you know that,” Ilan answered, laughter back in his voice.
“You’re the one that brought it up,” Abi said, wondering how to change the subject.
“Yeah, I know, and it’s a thing I will never forget now, so thanks for that,” he said, and she couldn’t help joining him in laughing. Her hand left his forearm to rest on his chest.
His solid, warm, very close chest.
Abi swallowed hard, her laugh twisting into something that could have been politely called a grimace.
“See, I’m wondering what’s the best way to change the subject,” Ilan said, his tone saying this was absolutely not the conversation he thought he would be having in the alcove behind the leggy Boston ferns in the Campbell Co-op.
