Page 31 of The Biker and the Loner
"Stop whining," I say, punching his arm. "You asked for my help and I'm helping."
"Shit. Didn't think it’d take this long," he carps.
"Nope. You men never do."
We spend the next hour at the grocery store. Or rather,Ispend the next hour at the grocery store, because Scratch starts to gripe after ten minutes into our shopping, so I send him to wait in the car. I’m a cooker, and if I’m going to be spending any kind of time at his place, his pantry will need to be stocked, so I take my time loading up the cart with food.
When I roll out of the store with an overflowing trolley and navigate to my X6 in the parking lot, I find the doors are locked. With my windows being heavily tinted, I’m unable to see inside. Lightly, I wrap my knuckles on the window and a few seconds later the tattooed biker opens the passenger door with red eyes and a shameless yawn.
I can’t help laughing. "Were yousleeping?"
"You took forever," he complains as he wrestles out of the car to help me unload the groceries. "Woman, you bought the whole damn store or what?"
"You'll thank me later,” I repeat his earlier words.
With the trunk already packed to the brim with the items we purchased from the home department store, we resort to packing the grocery bags on the backseats and floor.
Once we're done, Scratch slumps back against the car and pulls me up against him. "Can we go get something to eat now? Please?"
"Sure. But we have to get back and put the cold things in the fridge first."
An aggravated noise rumbles in his throat. "For shit's sake."
I can't stop laughing as I peck him on the lips then hop in the car and start it up.
When we get back to the house, Cookie is outside watering her flowers with one hand while sipping liquor from the other.
Scratch gets out of the car and sniffs the air. "Whoa, something smells… Is that you, Cookie?"
She laughs. "Lamb stew and baked potatoes. You hungry?"
“Yhhessss. Oh Lord, yes.” He jabs an accusing finger at me. "This one's been starving me."
Oh, for crying out loud. "You ate all my macaroons!"
"I'm a grown-ass man with two hundred pounds of pure muscle. You think a handful of girl scout cookies can sustain me?"
I roll my eyes. "God, you're such a whiner."
Cookie laughs again. "I'll bring some over in a bit."
Scratch and I spend the next few minutes emptying the car of bags upon bags. Afterwards, while I pack the groceries out into the pantry and fridge, Scratch slumps against the wall and slides down to the floor, clutching his stomach as if he's dying.
"You aresostinking dramatic," I say through a laugh.
He beckons me with two fingers. "C'mere."
I pack the last of the fruits in the fridge before walking over to him. Grabbing my wrist, he tugs me down so I'm on his lap, then presses his face into my neck. "I like being with you. Even when you're starving me."
"I have to leave in a bit. But I'll come by after my shift tomorrow and put up the curtains and stuff for you."
"Stay with me tonight."
"I...I can't."
He lifts his head from the curve of my neck and narrows his eyes at me. "You did hear me when I said I'm not sharing you, right?"
"Scratch..."
