Page 21 of Married As Puck
I blink at him. “Not everything.”
“There is nothing left in the fridge, Brie. Nothing.” He throws his hands out, pacing a step, like he’s genuinely grappling with how any human could have consumed so much in such a short time.
“I stocked up the fridge a few days ago. I had enough stuff to last me for at least like ten days, if not more and somehow you’ve managed to finish everything in just two days, what are you? A mannerless cow?”
I fight a smile. “That’s a little dramatic. There’s still ketchup, and I’m not a mannerless cow, that’s going too far.” I try to hide my grin.
His jaw flexes.Oh, I’ve pushed the caveman too far.
“You’re right, you’re much more than a mannerless cow, you’re a cruel, self-centered human being who does not think about anyone but herself. You should see a doctor.” He points a finger at me. “Do you even realize how—no, you don’t. You don’t realize because apparently you think eating someone else’s groceries like a plague of locusts is normal behavior. You should have yourown things. Maybe then you can eat anyhow you want to without inconveniencing someone else.”
I tilt my head, letting him rant. Watching him fume is like watching one of those fancy espresso machines hiss and puff until it spits out perfect foam. Entertaining, and somehow satisfying.
“You’re right,” I say finally, blinking up at him sweetly. “I should have my own things. In fact…” I lean closer, lowering my voice like I’m sharing state secrets. “…why don’t we go fix that?”
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Fix what?”
“The food situation, dummy. Groceries. I’ll even let you come along.” I smile sweetly
“Come along?” His tone suggests I just invited him to shovel cow manure.
“Yeah. Bonding experience. Just you, me, and a shopping cart.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear me? I said no. What makes you think I’ll want to go anywhere with you? You’ll go to the store alone and replace everything you ate.”
“Well, I can’t remember what you had in there, but I hope you’re not lactose intolerant or into those healthy diets, because I’m getting a lot of unhealthy stuff.”
“Don’t you dare…”
I grin, stepping backward toward the door, snatching up my jacket. “You should come with me then…to keep me in check,” I wink, “Come on. You’ll thank me later. C’mon, Caveman. It’ll be fun.”
The look on his face is priceless—equal parts outrage and disbelief—but after a dramatic sigh and a muttered string of curses about “idiots” and “the unfairness of life,” he shoves his arms through his jacket and stalks after me.
Victory at last!
“We should use my car, it’s faster and the sooner we get to the store, the sooner I’d be completely done with you,” he says, already heading to his car.
“Uh, no?” I say, not making an effort to move from my vehicle of choice.
“What do you mean by no and why are you still standing there?”
“We should ride bikes there, it’ll be fun and—”
“Are you serious? Are you high? How exactly do you expect us to ride one bicycle to buy groceries? You know sometimes I think that you do things on purpose to get a rise out of me because there’s absolutely no way you just said this without thinking it through.”
“What do you mean by that? I just thought —”
He cuts in, “I do not care what you’re thinking at this point. Enter into the damn car or so help me God, I’m going to pick you up and chuck you in there.”
We have a stare down for a few seconds before I grin, “You would just like toss me in there?” I give him a little show of what it would look like.
