“Also, expect a visit from your dad,” she says, climbing into her SUV. “Love you, Brin.”
“Love you, Mom.”
She shuts the door and starts the SUV while I walk toward the grocery store. I could easily get myself out of this situation, but I don’t want to. It’s time to reincorporate myself into the world of the living.
Van is in front of the meat section, his cart filled with a mix of junk food and healthy food, not much in between.
“So, what are you making me for dinner?” I ask, surprising him as he pulls a pack of chicken from the bottom of the stack.
“You mean your mom hasn’t hired someone to evict me?”
I shake my head. “She’s fine, just needs to remember that I’m an adult.”
He laughs. “She’s protective. She’s your mother. She’s supposed to be.” He pushes the cart to the freezer section, grabs a container of Ben & Jerry’s Netflix & Chill’d, and drops it in the cart.
“Ice cream?” I glance in his cart. “Three different kinds of chips, cookies, chocolate milk?”
He stops and stares at me with a really mean look. “Are you judging me?”
“No, not at all. I’m just surprised because you’re so…” I motion down his body with my hand. Jesus, Brinley.
“What?” He smirks and widens his legs without removing his hand from the cart.
“Just so… oh, come on, you know you’re in shape. I figured that was the byproduct of protein shakes and a million sit-ups a day.”
He laughs and pushes the cart again. “The sit-ups are real, push-ups too. But I don’t have to be so strict with my diet right now, so I’m going to take advantage.”
My head tilts. “Why’s that?”
He stops again as though I’ve caught him off guard. “Let’s talk about it when we get back to the apartment.” He glances around.
Now I’m worried about what he has to tell me. “Okkkaaayy.”
He chuckles. “Stop thinking I’m going to say something bad. I promise you the background check was on me even though you thought I was a woman. I’ve never been in jail for more than a night.” He winks, suggesting what you’d assume—that a big guy like him has gotten into a bar fight. “My credit is good.” He squeezes my shoulder and a million butterflies set off inside my stomach. “You have nothing to worry about.”
I step away from him and his hand drops.
“Sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine.”
We walk side by side down the aisles and he doesn’t put much more food into the cart, but when we reach the alcohol, he glances at me. “Are you a red or white kinda girl?”
“Either’s fine.”
He pulls down one of each and puts them in the cart.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“I’m making you dinner and that comes with a drink.”
“Okay. But you don’t have to make me dinner either.”
He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “You say that now, but wait until after I cook for you. Then you’ll be asking me to cook all the time.”
I smile. “Aren’t you full of yourself.”
He leans in close as we get to the checkout counter. “There’s a big difference between being confident in who you are and what you bring to the table and being conceited.”
My lips tingle at the proximity of his. All I want to do is turn my head and find his mouth. How simple that used to be for me, but he’s not my boyfriend or even a guy I’m dating.
I help him put the food on the conveyor belt while the cashier scans the items, looking at Van more than what she’s ringing through. The bagging girl isn’t much better, asking about our night and what we’re up to. I’m guessing she’s only really asking Van.
“Just bringing these groceries home,” he says politely.
As we walk away, I hear my name coming off the bagging girl’s lips. I might not know her, but she knows me. That’s the curse of a small town. Everyone knows everything.
Thankfully, Van doesn’t say anything or ask any questions. We put the grocery bags in the back of the SUV, then I drive us back to the apartment. I glance down the street at Smokin’ Guns Tattoos because I expect my dad to be on our doorstep when we arrive home, but no one is hanging around.
“Don’t you have to work tonight?” I ask Van as we grab the groceries.
“Nate gave me the night off to get settled but did say it would be the last weekend night I’d get off for awhile, so we better make it a good one. Hence the Netflix and chill.”
My mouth hangs open as I head up the stairs. “You think we’re going to Netflix and chill?”
“Well, I am more than you, but I’m a sharer, so you can have some too.”
I unlock the door to our apartment. “Presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He laughs and shakes his head, stepping into our apartment. “Do you suffer from short-term memory loss?”
“What?”
“I’m talking about the ice cream I bought.” His eyebrows rise in question.
My phone rings before I can answer, and I see that it’s Easton. I should really ignore the call, but I need a distraction right now, so I answer anyway.
Six
Van
I unpack the groceries as Brinley answers her phone.
Opening the fridge, I crack a smile, looking over my shoulder at the blonde walking away down the hall. Every item already in the fridge is labeled with her name on it. I shake my head. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Not that I’m going to make a tidal wave out of this, but it’s funny as hell. What would she do if I ate her yogurt?
It takes me a little while to find my way around her kitchen, but I locate everything I need and prep the dinner. I’m cutting up the chicken to put in the pan when she comes back in, plugging her phone into the charger on the counter.
“Sorry, that was my cousin.” She looks over my shoulder, then sits on the counter in the corner of the kitchen.
“Word gets around fast, huh?”
She laughs. “Yeah, although this is Easton, the one who thought I should’ve brought you home with me the other day.”
I side-eye her and again, her cheeks flush pink. “Imagine if you had?”
“Then you probably wouldn’t be making me dinner because I wouldn’t have let you move in with me.”
I put the chicken in the skillet and throw away the scraps I didn’t use, then I wash my hands in the sink. She’s close to the sink and watches me soap my hands before she leans over and grabs a paper towel off the spool, handing it to me.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She’s as sweet and welcoming as she is standoffish. Her legs swing back and forth, and her hands are tucked under her thighs. “So, you cook, huh?”
“When you live by yourself, fast food or takeout gets old fast. I started fiddling with recipes, ones that wouldn’t take much time.” I flip the chicken and chop up the rest of the ingredients. “It doesn’t take much.”