Page 59 of Only for the Season

“Want me to prove it to you?”

I do. I most definitely do. But there’s no time for sexy games. The grocery store closes soon.

“Fine.” I grunt. “You’re not fifty.”

He kisses my forehead before releasing me. “Now, grocery shopping. Do we walk? Do we drive?”

“We can walk.Mariner’s Marketdoesn’t mind if I borrow a shopping cart to bring my groceries back to the bakery.”

He switches directions. “We’re not pushing a shopping cart across town like a bunch of beach bums.”

I screech to a halt. “Are you saying I’m a beach bum? Because pushing a shopping cart across town is my jam.”

He sighs. “Allow me to rephrase. Why do all the work of pushing a cart when we have a rental car at our disposal?”

He does have a point. Wheeling a cart with one rogue back wheel across the street while tourists honk at me while ignoring the speed limit is not my idea of fun. “Fine.”

We drive the few blocks toMariner’s Market.The parking lot is nearly empty since it’s December and most of the tourists have left the island. They’ll be back for Christmas and New Year’s but the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are a welcome reprieve.

I grab a cart but Jeremy pushes me out of the way and snatches it from me. “I got it.”

I dig out my phone and pull up my grocery list. Jeremy glances over my shoulder at the list and groans.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I sing.

“Where do we start?”

“The best aisle. The bakery aisle.”

We make our way through the grocery store, filling the cart with items from my list. I promise all the chocolate is for baking. None of it is for me.

It’s handy having Jeremy with me. He can reach the items on the highest shelf. I usually have to climb the shelves. But I’ve been banned byMariner’s Marketfrom climbing ever since the ‘peanut butter’ incident. How was I to know the jars of peanut butter were glass?

Having Jeremy around is not only handy. It feels nice. I’m usually on my own. Having a man to help out and joke with me while doing groceries feels good. Better than good.

Stop it, heart. We’re not falling in love with this man.

Except you’re already halfway there.

I ignore the taunt. No matter what happens my ‘relationship’, or whatever you want to call it, with Jeremy, has an expiration date.

“Why are there two hundred types of cereal?” Jeremy asks when he cut through the breakfast aisle.

“You really haven’t been in a grocery store forever.”

He picks up a box. “Elf on the Shelf: Hot Cocoa Cereal,” he reads the label. “Is this breakfast or a holiday-themed dare?”

I snatch the box from him and put it back on the shelf.

He picks up another box. “Kit Kat Cereal. Do people not just eat the actual candy?”

Again, I snatch the box from him and put it back on the shelf. “It’s for children.”

He rears back. “Children? Parents let their kids eat candy for breakfast?”

“I…” I trail off when my gaze catches on the two people walking down the aisle toward us. Speaking of parents.

I search for an exit but we’re halfway down the aisle. If we whirl around, they’ll most certainly notice us. Maybe I can crawl into the grocery cart and they won’t see me.