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I turned to walk away.
"Real."
"What?" I asked, pausing, but not turning around.
"You forgetting Rule 5," she said softly.
Rule 5: No deep feelings. I laughed. I guess she was right, but I couldn't let her have the last word.
"Shit, don’t flatter yourself, shorty. It’s not that deep.”
“I know. You’re the one acting crazy, acting like you’ve forgotten saying ‘no strings attached.’ Acting like you don’t have other… things to keep you occupied,” she taunted.
I shook my head, tired of her shit. “Have a good night.”
(10 monthsago)
An irresistible smile tugged at my lips as I strolled the grounds of the huge farmer’s market, taking in the busy stalls, vibrant produce, and rustic packaging. I loved this place. It reminded me so much of my grandparents’ farm. I respected the farmers and artisans here because I knew firsthand the work that went into growing and harvesting the array of fresh fruits and leafy greens.
My imagination worked overtime, conjuring ideas for the next meal I could make for Real. He’d been named one of Texas’s 40 under 40 to watch. Smart, accomplished, and ambitious, Real was one of a kind, and I loved that for him. Watching his mind work was amazing. He deserved every victory. I was going to support him in every way I could. He claimed he’d fallen in love with my cooking, so I indulged that love often. Cooking for me was joy, not something I shared lightly. That I wanted to bring that joy to Real still surprised me, but I was learning to roll with it. I knew he’d enjoy the pretty heirloom tomatoes I was eyeing, sliced thick, sprinkled with the fresh basil displayed next to them, and drizzled with a balsamic glaze. Plus, there was a dairy farmer a few stalls over who made the best cheeses. I could?—
“Ev! Come over here, baby, and try our fresh peaches!”
The sweet voice interrupted my thoughts. I waved as a woman I knew as Ma Henderson called from her stall, her wrinkled hands holding out a plump peach. “I washed these before I got here. Hope it’s as good as you told me your grandmama’s are.”
I smiled as I accepted the gift, loving the sweet aroma of the air around her booth.
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Henderson! You gon’ have me making a cobbler this evening,” I replied, before taking a bite.
The juice dribbled down my chin, and I laughed, wiping it away with the back of my hand. The peach was perfect!
“Nothing like fresh produce to inspire home-cooked food, huh?” she said, her brown eyes bright and friendly.
I nodded, then talked with her as she weighed out a pound for me. I really should invest in an ice cream maker, just for the things I bought here alone. I wondered if Real liked homemade ice cream, then stopped, scoffing at myself.
Girl, you doing too much, I scolded internally.
But I was fighting a losing battle. I liked Real, more than I had intended to. Falling for him wasn’t part of my life plan, and I needed to keep it together.
As I made my way down each row, my brain was busy with my conflicted feelings. I wanted to focus on my own life and goals right now. Yet, the way he looked at me when we talked, the sound of his laughter—things like that made me forget about those plans, even if just for a moment.
But he’d said no strings. And I’d said no feelings. I was used to being the rule maker, but Real tempted me to be the rule breaker. Sighing, I walked up to a stand displaying the prettiest, bright green collards and huge cabbages. I needed to focus on enjoying my little shopping expedition, instead of daydreaming about a man who’d made his intentions clear.
Then, almost like I’d really dreamed him up, my gaze landed on him. Real stood at the next stall, a smile on his perfect lips. But he wasn't alone. A woman stood beside him, her arm linked possessively through his. My stomach twisted painfully, threatening to eject the little bit of breakfast I’d eaten. It had to be a sign from God—here I was in my feelings over his ass, and he was out here with another woman. I turned, intent on escaping him. I tried to pay for my choices quickly, sending another glance his way as I dug into my crossbody bag. I must have stared at him too hard. Suddenly, his eyes were tangling with mine.
“I know you ‘bout to do your thing in that kitchen. What you buying?” Real asked, smiling as he walked toward me.
I froze, feeling my heart drop. Gaze pinned to him, I was vaguely aware of the farmer repeating my total. The other woman and I watched, both mortified, if her face was believable, as he pulled out his wallet and paid. She recovered more quickly, offering him a fake smile as he handed me the greens.
“Real, baby, introduce me to your friend,” she murmured, sounding like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“You good?” he asked me instead, his smile slowly disappearing when I didn’t return it.
He studied me hard, his head tilting to one side. Those dark eyes seemed to take in everything in that moment, and I couldn’t have that.
“Hey,” I finally managed to reply, tone light. “I’m great. Just, um, out shopping.”
He cleared his throat, then shrugged.