Page 7 of Riding with the Bad Boy

We walked in and I grabbed a cart. My first stop was the veggies and produce. I went right for the specialty cheese and looked for the smoked Gouda.

“I already have it,” Rocco said beside me. “I got Gouda, the cracked pepper and olive goat cheese, and the garlic pesto pepper jack.” I looked over at him. “I also got the herb pita crackers.”

That was unexpected. “You hate those crackers.” He shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

Feeling nervous, I went toward the bread. “I also got baguettes, cinnamon bagels, and brown sugar cream cheese.”

This time I didn’t say anything but kept moving through the store. My next stop was the coffee and tea aisle. As soon as I reached for the Lady Grey tea Rocco opened his mouth.

“Let me guess, you got this too?” I snapped, and he nodded. “What? Did you raid my house while I was out?”

Damn him, he moved so that I was up against the shelves with his body pressed into mine.

“I pay attention.” His steel blue eyes bore into me. His hand slid up my side and fuck if I didn’t forget everything but the touch of his skin on mine.

“I know you.” He leaned forward with his lips just touching the shell of my ear. “In bed and out.”

“You don’t.” My breath was so shallow you would think I had just run a marathon.

“I do, but if you need to keep pretending like I don’t, I won’t stop you.”

My eyes slid closed, and I swallowed. It would be so easy to give in. To believe there was more between us than just mind numbing, incredible sex, but that wasn’t our deal. We had agreed there wouldn’t be more. That neither of us wanted more, and now I wasn’t so sure I could hold up my end of that bargain.

This was still a game to him, but my heart was so close to getting involved. He wasn’t wrong. We did know each other and under different circumstances Rocco would be exactly the kind of man I might be willing to risk a relationship with, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He had been so clear about that from the start. It wasn’t his fault that I’d changed.

“We should keep going.” I saw heat flash in his eyes. “With the shopping,” I informed him.

“If you say so.” He grinned and backed away.

If he kept this up I was going to hate that phrase by the time we got to Tennessee.

I TRIED TO KEEP QUIETfor the most part during the drive. My mind was still stuck thinking about our shopping trip. Rocco had purchased almost everything that I had wanted to pick up. I did get a couple of candies and a bag of chips that he missed, but it was wild to me how well he knew what I liked. It wasn’t as if we had ever gone on a date. Mostly our relationship, if you wanted to give it a name, consisted of text messages and lingerie. He’d been to my house about the same number of times I had been to his, but we didn’t really do overnights or breakfast in the mornings. Still, he had apparently been paying more attention than I had.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” I glanced over to see that he wasn’t looking at me at all. Just how well did this man know me? Was he more invested in what we had than I thought? Did I want him to be?

“Just thinking about the wedding.” I lied. He didn’t need to know I had been contemplating what was between us.

“I don’t remember you ever mentioning being close enough with anyone to consider them a sister other than Ginger.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ginger and I met and became fast friends when we both moved to Bliss Haven. We shared the same past of growing up without family. The big difference was that she had no idea where she came from, and I had a small clue.

“It’s not something I talk about.”

“What’s she like?” He asked.

“Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “Your sister.”

“She isn’t my real sister.” I corrected. “She was this little thing that looked up to me from the moment my foster parents brought her to the house.” They had been my third set of ‘parents’ in four years. I still ended up with one more before I aged out, but they had been one of the best.

“She’s five years younger than me and is about to start her last year of college,” I told him. “She took a year and a half off to try her hand at pageants.”

Personally, I thought she was far too young to be getting married, but it wasn’t my decision. I didn’t know the guy. They had been dating since their senior year in high school, and her adopted parents loved him, so I would support her and hope for the best.

“So she’s pretty and that’s about it?” He laughed.

“She’s also majoring in civil engineering with a minor in foreign studies.” I defended. “She speaks three languages, and her platform that she competed on was working with organizations to help build environmentally sustainable buildings in underprivileged and underdeveloped communities and countries.”

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