Page 23 of I Wanna Text You Up

“Cereal isn’t realbreakfast.”

“You’re very opinionated about what I’m putting in mymouth.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his lips quirk into a twisted smirk as I realize what I justsaid.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean dicks, Caleb. I meantfood.”

There’s a strangled laugh and I turn to find an old lady standing directly behind me. Her hair is a wild mess of white, nails painted blood red, and a cubic zirconia bracelet hangs off her wrist as she grabs for a box of pasta. A long black cover drapes her shoulders, she’s wearing skinny black slacks and a white blouse, and a string of knockoff pearls sits around her slender neck to complete her look. She’s dressed to the nines, and it’s a bit much for Smart Shoppe, especially at this time ofnight.

My cheeks heat and Caleb doubles over in laughter, having known full well she was standing behind me the entire time. I swat at his bent form, trying to get him to shutup.

“You!” I whack him on the back. “You are such anass!”

“Oh honey, now don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in taking a little bob on theknob.”

She winks and then sashays away, leaving me standing there with my mouth dropped open in shock and a laughing Caleb still by myside.

“Did shejust…”

“Yep.”

“Holy hell,” Imurmur.

Caleb stands and wipes at the tears running down hischeeks.

“I think I love that oldbroad.”

“I thinkIlove that old broad. I want to be her when I growup.”

Caleb grabs my arms and tugs me down the aisle. “Come on before you run after her and proposemarriage.”

I try to stick a few more snacks into the cart but it’s no use; Caleb notices. After the sixth failed attempt, I give up and let him get whatever hewants.

“So how’d you learn to cook?” I ask as I slip a carton of chocolate milk into thecart.

“I didn’t have the option to not learn.” He checks the carton of eggs he’s holding before handing them my way. “I was the oldest kid and my mom wasn’t home often. You can only do so much with mac and cheese and ramen before it getsold.”

“That’s why I order out from time to time—breaks up themonotony.”

He chuckles. “How do you know how to bake but not cook? That seems a bit strange tome.”

“Not really, when you think about it. There are a lot of variables to cooking. Baking is simple. There are ingredients that go together to make this or that and you need to bake it for X amount of time. It’s all very set in stone, no real room to deviate. I like the rules behindit.”

“Hmm…I never thought of it likethat.”

And that’s all hesays.

We mosey our way up and down more aisles, arms sliding against one another every so often. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but it’s starting to feel like it is. I mean, there are only so many times it can happen accidentally before someone takesnotice.

“I’m going to grab a bag or two of frozen fruit for smoothies. You head over and grab a couple bags of steamable veggies you’lleat.”

“Rogerthat.”

We head our opposite directions and I survey the coolers, trying to find just what I’m looking for.Of courseit’s on the top shelf, where I’m too short toreach.

I open the door, the cool air hitting me and sending chills down my back, and hoist myself up onto the bottom of the frame. Even standing on my tiptoes, I can’t reach the bag of corn. It’s sitting at the back of the freezer, just out of reach, even with theboost.

A blanket of heat slides over my back and I shiver again, my nipples coming to peaks. This time it’s not from the cool air but the sudden change intemperature.

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