Page 37 of Your Two Lips
We said our goodbyes to the others and loaded up. No one was headed to the brewery tonight since they would be closed by the time we got there, but a few folks were still planning to meet up.
“Do you think you’ll stop by The Boathouse later?” Emily asked after we had cleared the trailhead parking area. The hum of the highway and the yellow-orange light of the evening sun seeped in through the windows.
“Not sure. What about you?”
“I’m tired, but I don’t have a lot of food at my house. I took an extra work shift this morning and missed the farmers’ market. Safeway will have something I can grab and go.”
“We’ll pass right by a store if you want to stop and pick up a few things,” I said.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Nah. I could grab a few things myself.”
Who knew beingin a grocery store would be the most romantic thing I’d done outside of the bedroom? We decided a cart was best since neither of us had a shopping list. Fresh kale, apples, and tangerines for her. A few bananas for me. I followed behind as she pored over the displays of fresh vegetables.
I reached out to remove another twig from her ponytail, and her smile was warm, familiar as she smoothed her hand down her hair. At that moment, time moved in slow motion.
The water sprinklers turned on above the salad greens. I felt the chill of the air conditioning through my still damp cycling shirt. A man at the next bin roamed his gaze up Emily’s legs, then gave me a nod.
Was this what it would be like to be with her? Everyday life suddenly sexy and vibrant? She would smile at me, and everyone would know I was the one holding her at night.
She stepped away to select organic carrots. I followed. As if I had any other choice.
“We could grab some chicken, grill it at my house.” I wanted more time with her in whatever this cocoon was. “Could be nice to eat on the deck.”
She looked at me with a soft smile. “That sounds great if it isn’t too much trouble.”
No, no trouble.
25
EMILY
Grocery shopping wasa coupley thing to do, and I imagined doing it every week with Finn. We could ride a new trail and stop off after to pick up dinner. He would find ways to touch me or slide his hand down my hip when we were alone in an aisle. We’d cook together after a long, steamy shower. Then make love and hold each other until morning. I wanted that. Finn. Even if I couldn’t have him forever.
Summer evenings in the Pacific Northwest were magic. The sun hovered at the edge of the earth for what felt like hours. The light outside turned pink, and the hum of the night bugs grew louder as we drove back to Finn’s house. My brain buzzed with thoughts as the road stretched out. Did he feel this too?
We had a package of chicken leg quarters, a package of fresh-cut vegetables, and a few large potatoes to slice into wedges for grilling.
We left my groceries in the truck. I didn’t have anything frozen, so they would be fine in the insulated bags Finn gave me until I could get home. He set his groceries on the deck stairs and walked his bike back to hang from a hook along the wall in his shop. As he returned, I noticed him rubbing his arm. He had done that a few times today.
“Did you hurt your arm?” I nodded at the hand digging into his shoulder.
“Strained it, lifting too many straw bales into the truck a couple of days ago. It’s sore.”
“Have you been icing it?”
“A little bit.” He smiled at me as he put away his gear on the shelf. “Once.”
“Any problems using it, range of motion issues?”
“I don’t think so, doctor, but you’re free to check it.” He winked and stood, moving his arm up and across his chest with a grimace.
I smirked. “Pain level?”
“Maybe a five. Not enough to keep me from doing things.”
“Since you’re cooking dinner, the least I can do is massage your shoulder for a couple of minutes.”
