Page 70 of Silver Linings
If one more person asks why the store is a mess, I’m going to scream.
Yes, it looks like a tornado tore through it, and yes, it looks a bit random with the mismatched shelves, mess of shipment scattered throughout, and industrial fans drying out the floorboards, but can they not see I’m teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown? I look like a frenzied hyena on the hunt for dinner, for fuck’s sake—which is precisely when my stomach growls and everyone starts to look like a slice of pizza.
When the jingling of the bell above the door signals a customer, I suppress a groan. There is a special place in hell for the people who come into a store right before closing. Nevertheless, I am the proprietor of this fine business and have to try and get money out of this person before I resort to turning tricks on the corner of the block.
I twist to greet the customer and stop when I see who’s in front of me.
“Hi,” I squeak out.
“Hey, Sunshine.” Hendrix’s smile feels like freshly baked donuts, warm and sweet. I want to guzzle down a dozen of those smiles.
“What are you doing here?” He stares at me with a mix of humor and confusion. “I just mean that it’s Saturday. We don’t work on Saturdays.”
“Can I still see you on Saturdays? Or are they reserved for some sort of pagan sacrificial ceremonies?” He’s dressed in slim cut jeans and a dark green sweater, the combination doing horrendously primal things to my insides.
“That’s every first Saturday, actually. I can add you to the group chat if you want to join next time.”
His resulting laugh is loud and carefree and so damn sexy, I fear I may combust. Someone is going to have to roll me out of here on a stretcher, because Hendrix Wells is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. He gets even sexier when he pulls a takeout bag from behind his back.
“I thought you could use some dinner.”
“I could kiss you.”
“Youdefinitelycould. I sure as hell won’t stop you.” He smirks.
So, I do just that. I walk right up to him, angle myself up on my tippy toes, and press my lips to his. The kiss lasts onlyseconds, but it has the effect of a ninety minute deep tissue massage the way all the anxiety seeps from my bones.
I settle back down on my heels and press my forehead to his firm chest as his free hand settles onto my hip, squeezing me tightly, deliciously.
“What happened in here?” His gaze darts around the store, taking in the mess and fans.
“Noticed that, did you?” Hendrix drills me with a look. “Pipe burst and flooded the store.”
“Wow, you must be cursed or something,” I scoff in agreement.
“What did you bring me?” I ask, nodding toward the bag.
“Chow House.”
“Who told you?”
“The secrets of the Pentagon? I believe that was Nicholas Cage.”
I swat his arm. “No,” I laugh. “Chow House is my favorite Chinese place in the city.”
He smiles softly. “It’s mine too. I’ve been getting it since I was in college. Best sautéed green beans on the East Coast.”
“You would point out the vegetable. Please tell me there’s something fried in there.” I lean forward, trying to peek in the bag, but he holds it out of reach.
“Be patient, and I’ll tell you.”
“Diabolical,” I murmur, turning to move away before he hauls me back with the hand settled around my waist, placing a kiss on my forehead, lips lingering for a beat too long, making memelt.
“Do you want to eat here or somewhere else?”
“You overestimate my ability to make it further than a few steps with food at stake. We can eat here.” I reach out with grabby hands for the bag, and he finally acquiesces by giving it to me before I lead us toward the back to the only availablespace for us to sit. I settle down on the floor between two stacks of freestanding shelves and start pulling out to-go containers, music from the store speakers setting the tone for our dinner.
I waste no time inhaling a spring roll at record speed, and when I look up, Hendrix stares at me with a fondness I’m not used to. It’s a heady feeling that makes me feel cherished and frightened in equal measure.
