Page 6 of The Book Club Boyfriend
I head straight for the coffee aisle first. Because, priorities.
As I reach for a bag of dark roast, another hand moves at the exact same time, bumping against mine.
“Seriously?” I mutter, stepping back.
“Gotta say, wasn’t expecting competition for coffee selection in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon,” comes a deep, amused voice.
I turn, prepared to give my bestI’m just here for caffeine, not conversationglare, and—okay. Wow.
The guy standing beside me is built like a linebacker, over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and an infuriating smirk that tells me he enjoys being irritating. He’s got that wholeI could chop wood shirtless in a cologne commercialvibe going for him, and I already hate that I noticed.
“Not competition,” I say flatly, grabbing the coffee and tossing it into my basket. “Just someone trying to get in and out of this store as quickly as possible.”
He arches a brow. “Not much for small talk, huh?”
I blink. “Areyouthe designated grocery store greeter? Because if so, I’d like to speak to management.”
The smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this.Great. I’ve somehow stumbled across theoneextrovert in this entire town.
“Sorry, sweetheart, no management here,” he says, reaching for his own bag of coffee.
I ignore thesweetheartbecause, frankly, I don’t have the time or the energy. I push my cart ahead and move to the next aisle—snacks. If I’m going to have any chance of survival this summer, I need fuel. Preferably in the form of carbs and salt.
Unfortunately,heseems to have the exact same shopping strategy.
“Following me now?” I ask, eyeing him as he grabs a bag of kettle chips from the same shelf I’m reaching for.
He laughs, leaning casually against his cart like he has all the time in the world. “Yeah, definitely tailing you for snack recommendations. What’s next? Popcorn? Frozen pizzas?”
I narrow my eyes. “You aresounoriginal. You can’t just repeat everything I pick.”
“Can and will.” He tosses a bag of pretzels into his cart with zero shame. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”
I push ahead, stopping in front of a display and frown. “No oat milk,” I mutter.
“I didn’t know oats could make milk,” Mr. Mind-Your-Own-Business says, coming up from behind me.
“Wow.Amazingflirting strategy.” I move pasthim, fully ready to leavewhoever this guy isin my rearview mirror.
“You think I’m flirting?” He follows me again, clearly having way too much fun with this. “And here I thought we were just having a friendly chat.”
I stop in my tracks, turning slowly. “I’m sorry, do I have a sign on my back that says ‘I love small talk’?”
He grins, like he’s been waiting for this moment, but rather than answer, he just chuckles.
For some reason, I keep talking. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, like he’s surprised by my lack of interest. “I don’t mean to be rude; I just came here for the summer to escape people.”
At this, his eyebrows shoot up. “That might be difficult in a beachside tourist town.” Then he extends a hand, as if this is some kind ofcharmingintroduction. “Chase.”
I don’t take it. Don’t smile. “Scarlett.”
His grin deepens, like he’s pleased to finally have my name. “Scarlett. Huh. Nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around this summer.”
I certainly hope not.
I let out a long, slow breath.This is fine.I am a mature, rational adult. I can handle an overly friendly fellow grocery store patron.
I spin on my heel and head for the frozen aisle, but apparently, we both need ice cream.
