I pursed my lips, pretending to contemplate his question. “Oh, I enjoy it, but I’ve found the best heat comes from my own fire, not from a man’s.”
His nostrils flared, his hand tightening around my own, and for a split second he seemed to shift forward. I tugged my hand out of his grasp, ice instantly replacing the warmth.
Teasing comments were all fun and games, but it would be wrong to lead him to believe it was anything more than that, especially when I’d just convinced him I wasn’t a gold-digging hoe.
The truth was, I wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone, and I didn’t do casual. Tucking my hands safely under my armpits, I shuffled back. “Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Garrett…？”
“Rowe.”
“Garrett Rowe. But I really do need to get to work. Friends?”
He tracked my retreat, dropping his clenched fist at his side and inclining his head in a half-nod of acknowledgment.
“Friends.”
Chapter Nine
Grocery shopping was the devil’s favorite activity. It was like my own personal hell cloaked in elevator music and cereal boxes. If somebody told me they enjoyed it, I would instantly assume, with no hesitation, they were secretly a serial killer.
I hated it with a passion, and that hatred only escalated when I moved out on my own and had to apply for assistance. Because it didn’t matter how well I dressed or how sweet I was, the second I pulled out my EBT card, people’s mannerisms changed.
It was degrading and frustrating. Purchase a frozen meal because it costs less than five dollars? I’m a lazy parent. Apply for assistance to afford ingredients for a homemade meal? I’m abusing the system. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
So, suffice to say, by the time Jamie and I loaded up the Jeep and left the store, I was close to losing my shit. Turning up his music—which was an orchestra playing some video game theme song—I focused on the lingering echo of ignorant looks and comments. I allowed myself a full sixty seconds to stress, over-analyze, and second-guess myself, then I shoved it the fuck out of my head.
Pulling up to the house, I glanced in the rearview mirror, planning to ask Jamie what sides he wanted with dinner tonight, only to be met with a lolling head and gaping mouth. The kid was out cold. I parked, pushing open the door as silently as I could.
Jamie had stopped napping years ago, so for him to crash just while driving across town, he had to be thoroughly wiped. Hopefully he’d be able to nap a few more minutes while I unloaded the Jeep.
Layla was due to be home soon, and she’d have no problem poking at him and re-energizing his mood. She’d been gone a lot lately, playing music with the guy she “wasn’t dating” so Jamie would be thrilled we were both home.
I was excited for the evening because I’d gotten ahead in my classes over the past week and didn’t have to do more than read over a few articles tonight. I’d be able to relax and just enjoy hanging out.
I clicked my back hatch open, lifting it stealthily, and pouted at the number of bags staring back at me. I didn’t have the time to shop weekly, so I always bought several weeks’ worth of food as soon as the money came in. It was convenient to only go once or twice, but it sure was annoying putting it all away.
Making the only logical choice there was, I grabbed as many bags as I could, stacking them down my arms like a conga line of sloths. I took a deep breath, heaving my arms up and speed walking to the door muttering a string of “fuck, fuckity fuck” when it felt like the bags were slicing through my bones.
I dropped them at the door as carefully as I could before making my way back for round two, cradling my tomato-red forearms. Only a half dozen more trips to go. No biggie.
“Would you like some help?”