Page 6 of Text Me Baby One More Time

I groan when I hear his voice.

“Go away.”

“Can’t—it’s the only lane open.”

“What are you even doing here, Slug?”

I swear I can hear him grind his molars together at the nickname.Good. Asshole.His dentist must have a hell of a time rooting around in his mouth with how much he gnashes those teeth.

“Grocery shopping. This is the grocery store, isn’t it? That’s what you’re supposed to do here,” he deadpans, repeating my words back to me.

“I hate you.”

“You only think you hate me, Den.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me, and he chuckles because he knows I did it.

I’m certain he’s standing back there with that famous smirk of his lining his lips. That’s the thing about Shep—you can never tell if he’s upset or not because he’s always sporting that fake-ass smile of his.

But, if you look close enough, you can see his jaw tick.

That’s his tell.

I nod my head toward the magazine racks. “I see you still don’t have your shit together.”

“And I see you’re still as uptight as ever. You can take the girl out of that sheltered Montana life, but you can’t get the stick out of her ass.”

I whirl around at his words.

In true Shep fashion, the smirk is there—but that jaw? Tight, teeth gnashing painfully.

It appears I’ve ruffled the king’s feathers.

“Seriously, Shepard, why are you here? I thought you were off playing in the big leagues.”

His eyes shift toward the newspaper, lingering there for several beats before he pulls his attention back to mine.

“I’m…taking some time off.”

I raise a brow, unconvinced. He’ll have to try a little harder,especiallywith me. “From the MLB?”

“Yes, Denver, from the MLB.”

“But this is your first year. Your stats are outstanding for a rookie. You can’t miss the end of the season…”

He leans closer, his grin returning. “I’m aware of how my baseball career is going. Question is, how doyouknow?”

My cheeks heat and I hastily take a step back, tripping over my own feet and bumping into my cart, sending it rolling forward with a force I didn’t intend.

“Ouch! My hip! You’ve hit me!”

My heart hammers in my chest as I turn toward the older woman in line in front of me.

There my cart sits, right against her hip. Sure, it probably didn’t hit herthathard, but it did make contact.

“Oh gosh, I amsosorry, ma’am! I didn’t mean to run into you. I tripped on my flip-flop and lost my balance. Please, ma’am, I apologize.”

She huffs and turns away from me, dismissing my sincerity.

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