Page 40 of Real's Love

Montréal… no, thank you. I can’t this evening.

Real:

Bet.

I smiled, grateful for how cool he always was. A few minutes later, I was snuggled down on my couch with a pint of cookies and cream ice cream, ready to bingeThe Black List. I was fascinated with Red because he was a sort of morally gray character—capable of great love and great selfishness. Halfway through one episode, I heard my bell. I scrambled fast as hell. None of my family was here. Any of my few friends would have called. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries. That was undoubtedly Montréal Hamilton at the door, with his hard-headed ass. Picking up the tablet, I looked at his handsome profile.

“Real,” I said.

He grinned at the camera.

“There are really only two options, love. You can come out, or I can come in to get you. Either way, it ends the same.”

I exhaled deeply. I argued. And in the end, I went out. He opened the door of his Range Rover for me. I had no idea what he had planned, but I was surprised when we pulled up to a huge H-E-B.

“Grocery shopping?” I asked.

He looked at me speculatively. “Yeah. That all right with you?”

I almost forgot and opened the door without him. Thanks to my mama and granny, I was an excellent cook, and I loved grocery shopping. I nearly abandoned the attitude I was trying to have.

“Yeah. It’s all right.”

My tone was grudging, and I crossed my arms over my body as we walked in. Smirking, Real grabbed a cart.

"Is it really that hard to admit you wanna do something with me?" he teased.

I ignored him. I realized pretty quickly that he knew what he was doing. From the way he picked produce and herbs to the way he eyeballed and sniffed the seafood counter, Real was serious.

"You really shop for your own groceries," I murmured at one point, standing back and watching him as we waited for steaks to be cut to his specifications.

Real grilled me. "How the hell do you think I eat, love?"

I lifted my shoulders. "I guess I just assumed someone did all this for you."

Frowning, he shook his head before grabbing the package the butcher handed him.

We continued to shop. He encouraged me to throw things in the basket, and I did grab a few new spices and sauces that caught my eye. We spent over an hour walking up and down aisles and running up a bill. He paid without even seeming to listen to the total. I was in a better mood when he opened the door for me and watched me settle in before he put the groceries in the back. Impulsively, I leaned over to open his door. Real shot me a look when he climbed in.

"What?" I asked, shrugging. "I have manners."

He didn't say a word, just pulled away from the store. Part of me was looking forward to settling in for the night. But part of me liked hanging out with him. I was in trouble, getting in way over my head. And when I noticed he was not taking me home, headed instead to the far North Side, I knew I needed to say something.

"Once again, you seem to have forgotten the way to my house," I noted sarcastically.

He smirked at me. "And once again, you seem to have forgotten that I don't get lost in my city."

"Real—”

"You spending the night with me, Ev," he announced.

"I am definitely not doing that," I responded calmly, pretending to stare out the window.

"Yeah, love, you are."

"I don't even have clothes!"

He chuckled. "You won't need 'em most of the time, but I got you."

---