Page 40 of A Brush with Love
“Ha. No. It’s with everything. My friends banned me from watching the Olympics last year because I kept challenging them to different events. It’s a very real problem.”
Dan absentmindedly pushed and pulled his cart with his foot while he watched her, and the flex of his lean muscles beneath his jeans made her want to bite his thigh.
“So if I asked you to race, would you do it?”
Her head jerked back. “Like, around a track?” She looked again at his long legs and pictured them flexing and stretching in a run. She imagined them, toned and lean, in a pair of athletic shorts (maybe even a nice dusting of leg hair?), the loose fabric of the shorts allowing everything to bounce and—
He asked you a question, pig.
Harper cleared her throat. “I have to take about eight steps to match one of yours. I’m competitive, not stupid.”
“No.” He shot her a challenging smile. “Here. With the carts.”
“What? In the grocery store?” She snorted out a laugh, and a boyish grin stretched across his face.
“Why not? The aisle is wide enough for both of us and completely empty. We haven’t seen anyone for at least five minutes.” He leaned in with a wolfish smile. “First one to the end?”
She stared at him, her smile falling when she realized he was serious. “We can’t. We’ll get in trouble.” Despite her words, the impulse to accept the challenge burned through her.
“Scared of being banished from this beautiful Fresh Grocer?” Dan said, looking at a spot near Harper’s feet where a tangle of knotted hairnets, mixed with chunks of grocery store debris, sat like a disturbing tumbleweed.
“I wouldn’t call that a tragedy…” she mumbled, trying to kick away the pile and getting it caught on her shoe. “What’s the prize?
“If you win, I’ll let you take me on a second date.”
She barked out a laugh. “And if I lose?”
“You let me buy your groceries. Without,” he cut her off as she opened her mouth to protest, “putting up a fight.”
“Shut up. I can’t let you do that.”
“So you know I’ll win?”
Dan was the worst kind of evil. The adorable kind.
“Wow. This is quite the trap.” She tapped a finger on her chin, eyeing him closely.
He shrugged, holding that maddening smile. She looked at the carts and down the aisle, playing out different scenarios and weighing her chances. She had an idea.
“You’re on.”
Dan’s mouth opened in a surprised grin.
“But here are the rules,” she said. “You only get three strides to push off and then you have to hop on and keep control of the cart. If you hit the shelves, you lose.”
“Deal,” he said, reaching out a hand. They shook on it.
They grabbed their carts and backed up a few paces to the start of the aisle, locking eyes. Sharp energy crackled between them, and her palms started to sweat.
As he narrowed his eyes and sized her up, the ridiculousness of it filled her with a bubblegum-pink joy that she hadn’t felt in years.
“I’ll even let you count us down,” Dan said with a wicked grin.
“And who says chivalry is dead?”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “On your marks.” She planted her right foot behind her and grounded it against the linoleum for grip.
“Get set.” She adjusted her hands on her cart.
