Page 33 of Every Little Kiss
She stuffed the paper in her cleavage, then shook his hand. “You got yourself a deal. Now go and get my baby.”
It took Ford two minutes and a jar of baby food to extract Bubbles from the vent, and another hour and a half to convince Chuck the butcher, who wanted his name in the paper, not to press charges against a dog.
Wondering if his day could get any worse, Ford headed toward the front of the market. He smelled like incense and cold cuts, his uniform was coated in dog fur, and his shift had ended well over an hour ago.
He picked up a six-pack from the refrigerated section, not sure what the rest of his night would entail, but he knew it would involve a hot shower and a cold beer.
However, as his luck would have it, he stumbled onto something much more interesting on his way to the checkout counter.
Liv was in the freezer section carting around enough Popsicles to feed a small nation and wearing a pair of sweatpants, a red tank top, and matching sequined Converses that made him smile. It wasn’t the getup she’d sported last night in his dreams, but he wasn’t complaining. Sure, the sweats hid any kind of curves he knew she had going on under there, but that tank top was soft, snug, and showing off her goods.
And that woman had some pretty damn fine goods. A little on the smaller side—and reacting to the chilled environment—but showstoppers all the way.
Ford considered telling her she’d be warmer if she shut the freezer door, but he figured it would make it harder for her to hide from whomever she was hiding from without the frosted door for cover.
In addition to the stealthy peeks she was stealing down the aisle, she was fighting to tug a giant box of Popsicles out of the fridge. The box was winning. In her defense, it was on the top shelf shoved to the back. Meaning that every time she got on her tiptoes to reach, her tank moved up and her sweats moved down, exposing an impressive strip of silky midriff.
For a guy like Ford, all it would take was a single reach and grab, but since Nurse Cupcake didn’t do well with outside help, he leaned a shoulder against the ice cream display case and took in the view.
She gave a little hop-and-squeal move that was all kinds of girlie and a tad bit adorable, causing the door to close on her and nearly shut her inside the unit. But instead of coming out, she plastered herself to the cold door and peeked through the window as if the grim reaper himself were standing on the other side.
“You can always just pull the fire alarm and run out the back,” Ford suggested, and Liv jumped into the aisle, the door slamming shut behind her.
She looked down that aisle toward the back, where Chuck was packing giblets, then back to him. “You need to start wearing a bell.”
“It wouldn’t have helped anyway,” he said lightly. “I’m that good.” A smile tugged at her lips—not huge, but enough to know that she wanted to laugh. “Did Paxton bring home a penguin, or are you turning in your cupcake scrubs for Popsicles?”
“It’s my week to be Popsicle mom,” she explained, sounding slightly harassed. “Who knew there were so many different kinds to choose from? Sugar-free, gluten-free, nut-free, all-natural, artificial flavoring but not coloring, dairy-free.”
“Can Popsicles have dairy?” he asked with a smile, noticing that all the BS from earlier slipped away until all he could focus on was how easy it was to be around her. He’d noticed it the other night on the beach but couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Soothing. Liv soothed his soul, silenced the what-ifs and vanquished the guilt. Which was ridiculous because being around her should cause all kinds of turmoil.
But it didn’t.
“They can also be made in a factory that shells nuts and seeds.” She looked up at him as if the fate of the world rested on this one decision. “What if someone has a nut allergy? Surely they shouldn’t be left out of Popsicle Day.”
“Why not get a box of each, and then you’ll be safe.”
She looked at her cart, which had more boxes than kids in superhero camp. “You see my problem.”
Ford looked down at her tank, which hadSUPERMOMscrawled across the chest in red glitter. And poking out, just above the top curve of thePand firstM, was hard evidence that she was super indeed. “Not a problem from where I’m standing.”
Liv looked down and quickly crossed her arms. “Let me guess, you’ve got a cup of coffee to warm me up?”
“I was going to offer you a hand with the top shelf, but who am I to argue with a lady,” he said. “Unless you’d rather ask Chuck for help.”
“Don’t even say that,” she hissed, and before he knew what was happening, Liv had a fistful of his uniform shirt and had him spun around so his back was to the butcher counter, his body shielding her from view.
“What? He’s nice, single, got a steady job, and with those meat cleavers for hands, he’s defiantly not a rookie. I bet he could help a lady out.”
Ford raised his hands to wave Chuck down, and Liv snatched them back.
“He could also keep my freezer filled with lamb chops and mincemeat,” she said, peeking around Ford’s arm. “But a steady supply of meat isn’t what I’m looking for.”
So it wasn’t just Ford. It was all single men she avoided. Good to know. Not that it helped his ego any.
“What is it you’re looking for, then?” he asked, and with a glare she stepped back. She was cute when she was trying to be tough. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
