Page 16 of Love Story

Surely, I can manage that.

I PARKED INfront of the grocery store, shutting off the truck with a sigh.Mom’s list was crumpled in my hand, a collection of three random things that didn’t make much sense.Why she needed them right now, I had no idea.But I had an hour to kill before heading back to the farm, and I’d promised Haider I’d drop off another bottle of the Stonebridge maple syrup.Stocks were running low, which was a good thing—not that Haider wouldn’t make it sound like a crisis when I told him.

The store wasn’t busy, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing above as I grabbed a basket and headed toward the baking aisle.I wasn’t in any hurry, but as I turned the corner, I spotted someone standing a little too still in front of the shelves, a list in hand.

Ben.

I stopped in my tracks, watching him before he noticed me.He looked… a long way past tired.Shadows had gathered under his eyes, and his frame was slim—too slim—as though he’d been carrying more than just himself for a while.He was gorgeous, from the curve of his jaw to his hair tousled by the cold winds outside, but there was something in the way he stood, uncertain, scanning the shelves, lost in more ways than one.

Vulnerable.Needy.

Cute.

My chest tightened, and before I could stop myself, I took a step closer.

He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine, and a flush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks.“Oh, hi,” he said, flustered.

“Hey,” I said, my voice lower than I intended.I nodded toward him.“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his hand rose to touch his forehead, where the faint scar from the accident was still visible.

“How’s your head?”

“I’m good.Didn’t leave a mark.Well, not much of one, anyway.”

Ben smiled, but his eyes darted back to the shelves, and his shoulders slumped.

“You look lost,” I said, stepping a little closer.

He exhaled a laugh, holding up his list.“I can’t find…” He squinted at the paper.“Something called cream of tartar.Whatever that is.”

I smirked.“Baking aisle’s the right place.”I reached toward the shelves where I’d spotted it earlier, pointing it out.“It’s there.”

As I moved to grab it, so did Ben, and for a brief moment, our hands brushed.

It was nothing—just skin against skin—but it sent a jolt straight through me, and his fingers were warm despite the cold.

He froze; his eyes wide.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling back quickly, his cheeks pink again.

“No worries,” I said, my voice quieter now.I picked up the small container and handed it to him.“Here.Cream of tartar.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice shy.

I found myself lingering, my hand brushing against the shelf for no reason other than to give me an excuse to stay close.I picked up the baking powder Mom needed and then glanced at his list.“If you’ve got more on there, I can help.Not much of a shopper, but I know where things are in this place.”

“I just… back in Boston… I didn’t shop much,” Ben said, his words halting as though he was trying to explain without sounding defensive.“Takeouts, company meals, that kind of thing.I mean, Icancook.”He rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.“As long as you like mac and cheese.”

“Who doesn’t like mac and cheese?”I scoffed, grinning.“Psychopaths.That’s who.”

That earned a laugh from him, and the sound warmed something in my chest.

“What’s next on your list?”I asked, nodding toward the scrap of paper in his hand.

He glanced down at it, then frowned.“Coriander seeds?I think that’s what it says.Do they even sell that here?”

“Yeah, they should.Tiny little glass jars, probably buried somewhere on the spice rack.”

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