Page 36 of Burn Bag (Owens Protective Services #31)

“What?” I asked, snapping out of my lust-filled haze. I met his eyes, trying not to show the desire swirling in my belly. But damn, he was just too tempting.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“Oh, definitely,” I said, pulling myself together. “I’m just…” What was I doing? I looked down at my purse and the keys in my hand. “Going to the store.”

“You forgot?” he asked, his lips quirking up in a knowing grin.

Heat swarmed my cheeks, but I fought down my embarrassment. I had nothing to be ashamed of. He was my husband and extremely sexy.

Except, it was like we were dating and everything was new. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it without frightening him off. Not that I was really worried about that. After all, he was my husband. He was already bound to me.

Clearing my throat, I stepped back, trying to appear more put together than I actually was. “I’m running to the store.”

“What for?”

“Dinner. To cook dinner, I mean. I need a few things.”

Rambling. Insert mouth and shove in foot.

I frowned, thinking that over. That wasn’t right.

This was what he did to me. Even the smallest things that I was thinking got all jumbled in my head.

It wasn’t right for a man to be able to befuddle a woman in such a way.

Why didn’t I have the same effect on him?

It just pissed me off and left me feeling like I wasn’t quite enough.

“Cool, I’ll take you.”

“To the store?”

“Yeah, to the store.”

“I can drive myself.”

He chuckled, taking my hand in his, which was super sexy, by the way. “Yeah, I’m not leaving you alone in a vehicle.”

“Why not? I’ve driven before, you know.”

He opened my door and picked me up around the waist, setting me on my seat. His thumbs brushed my thighs as he stared at me intently. “Because you seem to get in trouble no matter where you go. ”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. And you’ve left me alone before. Everything was fine.”

“You’ve been to the hospital twice, and you have a tendency to pass out when blood suddenly stops moving through your body, which I still don’t understand.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

“It really is,” he growled. “Now, I will be driving you to the store to ensure you get there in one piece. We’re on a roll here, not needing to go to the hospital, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I rolled my eyes, spinning so my legs were inside. “How romantic.”

“Baby, it’ll be romantic as hell. Our first date.”

He slammed the door and walked around to his side, his whole body moving like it was meant to be lethal and commanding.

Muscles moving under his shirt, his eyes darting in every direction as he took in every movement around the property, and those lips…

twitching ever-so-slightly when he saw me staring at him. It just wasn’t right.

I cleared my throat as he climbed inside, determined to gain the upper hand. “Technically, I think our first date was when we transported the cats.”

“Actually, our first date would have been when you took me to the hospital. It was very romantic,” he grinned. “Well, what I remember of it.”

“I think we need to redefine the word romantic in our relationship.”

“Well, when you consider how we got married, each day is like an adventure.”

It felt more like a five-car pileup, but sure, we’d go with an adventure if that made him feel better. “I’m not sure the grocery store is going to be quite as thrilling as you’re hoping for.”

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning across the seat, his finger snatched a tendril of my hair. He twirled it between his fingers, his eyes focused intently on it until finally flicking to meet my gaze. “It seems anywhere with you is interesting.”

I let out a long, dreamy sigh. Seriously, that had to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me before. But would he still feel that way in two weeks? Two months? A year? It seemed unlikely, but there was no denying the chemistry between us.

If only he would place his dick between my thighs and finish the job.

“So, grocery store?” he grinned, as if reading my thoughts.

I nodded and tried to pull myself together as we drove off the OPS property and into town.

This was technically my first real trip anywhere.

When we got litter and food the first time, I was still hungover and hadn’t paid attention to much.

Now, I soaked in everything about the small town.

A cute salon was on the main drag, a few bars started from the edge of town and the signs could be seen stretching the entire length of Main Street.

And then there was the grocery store, straight out of any Midwest catalog.

It was cute and exactly like the ones I used to shop at in my hometown.

Of course, the shops in Kansas City were more upscale.

Not that a grocery store could really be upscale, but there was definitely something about small towns that just changed the way you looked at things.

I could hear my phone buzzing in my purse, but I ignored it.

The number of phone calls from my mother was growing exponentially.

I listened to a few of the messages she left, and when none of them said anything about either of my parents dying, I decided I could wait a little longer to call her back.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her.

I loved my mom. But she had raised a fiercely independent woman, and she would hate that her little girl had settled into a life of domesticity.

She wanted me to explore the world, and only get married if I found someone like my dad who would travel with me and share in my adventures.

She would never understand why I had gotten married.

And looking back on it, I wasn’t entirely sure I understood either.

“So, what do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked, shutting off the engine.

“Oh, I was just thinking of making something simple.”

He shook his head, smirking at me. “Yeah, there will be no cooking for you. I doubt a second hospital trip for burns should be something we strive for. The last doctor already thought I was abusing you. ”

“There is nothing wrong with me making dinner. I have to learn.”

“Preferably not with me,” he jested. “Besides, I don’t mind cooking.”

“Then you can teach me.”

He seemed to consider this before nodding. “But you only touch dangerous things like knives and hot dishes when I tell you it’s okay.”

I rolled my eyes, but agreed. It seemed that would be the only way for us to move forward. “Speaking of which, I can take this bandage off today.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, snatching a cart as we walked through the doors. “The doctor said at least three days.”

“And it’s been more than that.”

He nodded, but otherwise ignored me.

“So, that means I get it off.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Frustrated, I was about to argue with him when he wheeled us over to the tomatoes and started picking out specific ones. I stood there in absolute boredom as he inspected each one. Did it really take five minutes to pick out five tomatoes?

“I’m going to get some salad.”

I rushed away, thinking that I could get a jump on the shopping. At least then it might take half as long. But the moment I picked out the Iceberg lettuce, he tsked and grabbed the bags out of my hands and put them back.

“Iceberg lettuce is just blah. We need Romaine.”

“Why? Iceberg is already chopped up.”

“Yeah, and not nearly as good.”

“Well, it’s good enough for me,” I argued, grabbing the bag.

“But I like Romaine.”

“Fine,” I gritted my teeth. “You get the Romaine and I’ll get the Iceberg.”

“Why? It’s just ridiculous to get two types of lettuce.”

“Not as ridiculous as arguing about it,” I snapped.

His nostrils flared in anger, but I stood my ground. I may not know how to cook, but I was more than capable of picking out the kind of lettuce I liked. “Fine. We’ll get Iceberg.”

I smirked as he put his back. From there, everything else went pretty much the same way. Every brand I liked, he poo-pooed as not good enough. Nothing I chose was up to his standards, and it became a huge argument.

“You know what? How about I get a shopping cart for my stuff and you get one for your stuff. Then, when we get home, we’ll divide our things and only eat what we chose.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous. I’m going to do the cooking. I’m not going to cook with half the supplies and leave the rest to just sit there.”

“Well, that’s only because you’ve deemed me incapable of cooking!”

“Because you burned yourself the first time in my kitchen!”

“Your kitchen? Excuse me, but I thought we were married!”

A man walked past, laughing to himself, and I had a feeling he was really delighting in our fight.

“Look, your kitchen, my kitchen, it’s all the same. This is just crazy. We’re fighting over groceries!”

“I’m not fighting. You just keep telling me everything that I want is wrong!”

“Ooh, bad move,” the man muttered, who had stopped just a few feet from us.

Raising my eyebrows, I turned back to my husband. “He agrees.”

“He’s some random guy in a grocery store. Why would I listen to anything he says?”

The man scoffed, shaking his head. I took that to mean that my husband was an idiot. Which, right now, I was pretty sure he was.

“Like I said, I’ll get what I want, and you can get what you want.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” I snapped, turning to walk away. “Stupid man, trying to tell me what brands to get and what I’ll want. This is by far the stupidest argument I’ve ever had!”