Page 59 of Billion Dollar Vow

I nod proudly. “Exactly. The perfect comfort food.”

He ignores me and snatches a box off the shelf, comes back to me, and holds it out for me.

I take it, reading its ingredients, ancient grains, and flaxseed and chia clusters.

“This is better.”

I squint at the box. “This is rabbit food.”

He sniffs his nose in the air. “That’s because rabbits have excellent taste.”

Eyebrow raised, I point at his chest. “You’re really walking around here calling me out when you’re eating rabbit food?”

He looks at me, straight faced. “Rabbits would never touch those refined sugar treats.”

I hold the box up, smirking. “I'll stick to this for now, but throw that in the cart if you want it for you.”

Turning, I head to the next aisle to grab some instant noodles, thinking that would be a great choice for tonight’s dinner.

He’s grumbling something about processed food, but I’m already walking away to grab snacks.

My arms are full of different chip bags.

His face is sour as he eyes them.

“Stop judging me.” I lower the bags into the trolly, spotting his organic selection of foods. Kale, apples, broccoli, potatoes, meat, and something fermented in a jar.

“Too late.” His eyes drop, and he leans in, picking up a family bag of sour cream and onion chips. “This is what you call food?”

I mock gasp as I snatch the bag, clutching it to my chest and patting it like a newborn baby. “Food? These are the most delicious life-saving snacks.”

“If your life depends on processed foods, maybe reevaluate your choices.”

I lower the bag gently into the cart. “Don’t start with me, Mr. Organic.” Rolling my eyes, I pick up a bag of quinoa. “You know who eats this? People who pretend to like it.”

He snorts a laugh as his eyes lock with mine. A silent battle, but there's something that makes my toes curl inside my shoes. A flicker of heat... Or am I imagining it?

“You say that now.” His voice pulls me back to our argument. “But when your blood sugar crashes from all that processed shit, you’ll be begging for my quinoa salad.”

I wave him off and grab a packet of mac and cheese. “If it takes me having a blood sugar crash to eat quinoa, just let me go.”

We make our way to the produce. I go to the red apples that are on sale, grabbing five and dropping them in a bag.

“These look good. See, I can do healthy.” I wink at him.

Before I put the last one in, he grabs my hand and takes the apple from me to hold it up, the light catching on the skin. “They’re coated in wax and pesticides.”

I meet his pinched face with a smirk. “They’re coated in deliciousness. Plus, nothing a wash can’t fix.”

He grabs one from the shelf, holding it up in the air like a gem. “This is an apple. One free of wax and pesticides.” He bites into it like a TV commercial, and I’m a little transfixed as juice trickles out of his mouth, but his tongue swipes it up quickly.

Daring me to try it, he holds it out for me. Because I want to prove him wrong, I take a bite and chew it slowly, glaring at him. “It tastes the same, but mine isn’t triple the price.”

He leans in, eyes narrowed. “You just don’t have a refined palate.”

My hand lands on my chest in mock horror. “Okay, fancy pants. Next, you’ll be trying to tell me to drink sparkling water.”

He grins. “Actually, I drink Kombucha.”