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“I’ll be sure to install brake lights for your convenience.”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring her own broad smile.

Ronin plucked a pint of something from one freezer and put it in the cart. Strawberry ice cream.

She raised her brows. “I thought you hated sweets.”

“Call it grief therapy,” he said.

The playfulness swiftly died in Naia’s expression as she grimaced.

“I’m sorry I brought him up earlier,” she said.

Ronin’s shoulders slightly jerked up in a lazy shrug. “Not your fault, so don’t apologize. The waves of grief come and go. Today just happens to be a shit day from it.”

Sheepishly, Naia moved her hand up to push her strands over her shoulder, looking anywhere but him. “Anything is better than laying around in your bed all day, the way I did when my father…” She bit down on the tip of her tongue, realizing she’d shared too much.

Hesitantly, she brought her gaze back to Ronin.

He tilted his head, implying his curiosity, with a soft tilt to the corner of his eyes. “We can share it.” He gestured to the pint of ice cream with a subtle lift of his chin. “There is no way in hell I’ll eat the whole thing. Besides, I’ll feel like total shit afterwards, and I’ll be counting on you to convince me I’m not total garbage for drowning my sorrows in sugar.”

She matched his gentle smile and nodded. “Very well. Can’t let a good carton of ice cream go to waste.”

Together, they continued down the path of the main aisle.

Naia assessed the quality of a head of lettuce, debating whether there was a true difference between Romaine and iceberg.

“What do you like to eat other than sweets and bread?” Ronin asked, picking through a bin of carrots and tossing the most edible looking ones in a frail plastic bag.

She dropped the lettuce head back in the bin and moved back to the cart, gripping her damp palms around the handle. “I eat seafood mostly, but I’ve always wondered what a cow steak tastes like.”

Ronin’s arm slid behind her to toss the vegetables in the cart, the inside of his forearm lingering close to hers.

“Steak it is, then.” She felt the warmth of his breath tickle the side of her neck as he spoke.

Naia set her jaw to suppress her shiver. An odd desire welled up within her, compelling her to lean back as an excuse for her to touch him. But she was too hyper fixated on the potential awkwardness if her backside were to press against the front of his body. What reaction would it elicit from him?

Through her dry mouth, she quipped, “Do you even know how to prepare a steak?”

“Do I ever?” He snorted. “You’re gonna eat those words later.”

“Doubtful.”

“Do you know how to cook?”

She twisted her head around, offended. At least, until she noticed the minuscule gap between them. “Of course.”

He smirked. “Like what?”

She stumbled on her words, distracted by the stray pieces of hair swooping down the sides of his face, and the rich mahogany shade of his irises gleaming at her.

“I’ve cooked fish plenty of times.” And would have accidentally murdered my entire family from it had they not been deities.

“Let’s see your skills, then. Help me cook dinner tonight.”

She marched ahead without him, pretending to know which way she was going. “Fine, but we’re getting my cream puffs first.”

Ronin strolled behind her. “You’ve never even tried them before.”