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His hand freezes and he opens his mouth before closing it, hesitancy heavy in his expression.
I set my card down. “Really. It isn’t a big deal and I like to be a man of my word.” Especially to him. If I say something, I want to mean it every time. I need him to know he can rely on me and every word that comes from my mouth.
“Alright.” He lifts from his chair enough to shove his wallet back in his pocket. The waitress reappears and grabs my card on her way to leave the bill on the table behind us.
Theo pulls out his phone and shows me the new desserts he wants to make tonight and the long list of ingredients he needs. While scrolling the recipes, the waitress brings me back my card and I sign after leaving a tip, still holding on to Theo’s phone.
Standing up from my seat, I shove it in the pocket of my jacket and he squints his eyes at me. “What are you doing?”
“When we get to the store, I want to see how well you memorized each item on your list.”
He stands up and tugs at my pocket. “Finn.”
I jump back, tugging the fabric from his hand. “Hey, you’re the one always bragging about what a better memory you have than me and how it only takes you seconds to memorize recipes in a cookbook. I only want to put these theories to the test.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he rasps.
“Come on,Tio. It’ll be fun.”
“You sure have a weird definition of fun.”
It’s not hard to miss the small gleam in his eyes. He likes a good challenge and he’s more excited to prove himself than he lets on. I loop his arm in mine and he leads us the way to the store. The walk is short and very much needed after sitting down for so long. Theo has a smile on his face the whole time, admiring the art on the buildings and making plans for us to take pictures on the bench with wings on the way back.
“You would look really good with wings,” I say as we walk into the small grocery store.
He nibbles on his lip, slowly pulling away from me, and heads down the first aisle alone. Quickening my speed, I grab a small cart and catch up to him. “You might need this.” I nudge him on the ass with the front of the cart. He presses his foot on the bottom to stop it from moving.
“It’ll be more helpful when it’s not smashing into my ass repeatedly.”
Oh I could make so many jokes right now. So, so many. One about how he’s right and the only thing that should be smashing into his ass is me. Or how what I’m doing is barely tapping and if he really wants me to show him what ass smashing is, I’ll gladly demonstrate when we’re back at the house. I bite my tongue instead and quietly follow him as he places items in the cart.
Tapping his mouth, he scrunches his face as he tries to remember the last two items. “Look, I got most of them. Can I see my phone now? This would go a lot faster if I did.”
I click my tongue and shake my head. “But you’re so close. You can do it. I know you can. I bet it’s right there at the corner of your brain. I’ll even give you a hint, it’s white and squishy between your fingers.”
He snorts. “I sure hope we’re still talking about food.”
“Someone has a dirty mind. Of course we are. This is a food market we’re at, not a brothel.”
He sputters a laugh. “Powdered sugar.”
“Yup and…?”
“Cream cheese.” His face brightens and I can tell he wants to bounce where he stands but stops himself. I wish he didn’t hold back so much. Eventually I’ll show him how beautiful he is when he expresses himself in his own special way.
“Ding ding. We have a winner. So let’s grab them and skiddaddle.”
“Did you just say skiddaddle?” His eyes crinkle from laughter.
“I did. So chop choppity chop. Move those feathers of yours.”
He stares at me for a little too long before finally pulling away, a little caught off guard.
“Did I say something wrong?”
He shakes his head quickly. “Of course not.” He heads down the aisle and I follow closely again, unable to pull my stare away from the way his jeans hug his ass.
Wrapping his fingers around the bag of powdered sugar, he tosses it in the cart and walks to the cold area of the store without saying a word or glancing back in my direction. Opening one of the coolers, he grabs a ten-pack of cream cheese. “That should be it.”
