Page 19 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nick

The supermarket was a hundred metres of scorched pavement past the brewery, and by the time we walked through into the air-conditioned bliss I was almost ready for another cold beer.

Fat chance of that.

Mads grabbed a basket, shoved it my way, and began issuing instructions. “I’ll grab a couple of healthy meal options for the next few days while you find some beer for Gazza and something easy for breakfast.”

I groaned. “I’m guessing that means no pizza for dinner, right?”

He flicked me on the nose. “No, no pizza. You’ve already had potato skins and Gazza is diabetic. We’re not eating crap for the next week. Besides, we have an oven, a microwave, and a two-burner cooktop. You can do a lot with that.”

“You can do a lot with pizza,” I countered. “Look at the Italians.”

He chuckled. “Maybe for lunch one day.”

“If I’m a good boy?” I teased.

Mads looked me up and down in a way that made my dick perk up. “That’s a conversation for another day. Now go.” He shoved me one way, then walked off in the opposite direction.

“But I don’t know where anything is,” I protested, genuinely mystified.

Mads turned and shot me an exasperated look. “It’s a supermarket. Use your common sense. They’re all basically the same layout.”

“They are?” How was I supposed to know that? Davis had always done the supermarket shopping . Always . Then after the accident, I mostly ordered online for delivery. If I had to go in person, horror of horrors, then I went to the same place we’d always shopped, so I’d never had to think about it.

“Really, Nick?” Mads shook his head in disbelief. “Just follow the signs on the aisles. I’m sure you’ll manage.” He started to walk off, then turned back again. “And this is why you’re doing the laundry. I rest my case.” He turned tail and left me standing there.

“Just follow the signs on the aisles,” I whined childishly at his retreating back while making sure I kept my voice low enough that he couldn’t hear. Then I took a deep breath and followed the signs, just as he’d instructed.

He found me ten minutes later, staring at a million cereal boxes with no clue what to buy. “Whatever I choose, it’s bound to have too much sugar for your liking, or salt, or not enough fibre, or too much fibre, or it’ll be so healthy it’ll taste like the wood shavings from a lumberyard.”

Mads barked out a laugh. “I’m not that hard to please.”

I shot him a look and his cheeks pinked.

“Okay,” he relented. “You might have a point. How about we do a mix. One healthy cereal mixed with a sprinkling of sugar-coated garbage that’ll make your teeth fall out. If we add a decent low-sugar yoghurt and some fruit, it’ll pass.”

Oh, yum. I tried to keep the look of disgust off my face. “So, not pancakes then?” I tried, sounding slightly desperate. “Or how about hash browns? That’s a vegetable, right? And bacon because, well, bacon.”

Mads shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips as he pulled a packet of bacon from his basket. “Chicken, not pork, and grilled, not fried. We can get eggs on the way out.” He caught my eye. “ Scrambled eggs.”

“If it’s not pork, then how is it bacon? There has to be a law against that. Misleading packaging and all that,” I grumbled, then took one look at his face and changed tack. “But still an excellent choice.” I kissed him soundly. “And exactly how hard was it to put that fake shit in your basket?”

Mads rolled his eyes. “You really don’t want to know. But then I remembered someone talking about balance, right?”

I grinned and slid an arm around his waist. “Yes indeedy. Balance. My middle name.”

Mads made a choking sound, which I decided not to investigate. “Come on. We’re done.” He strode toward the checkouts and I followed.

We’d just broken free of the cereal section when he came to an abrupt halt. “Shit.” He grabbed my arm and spun me left into the health and personal hygiene aisle.

I checked back the way we’d come but saw nothing. “Mads? What’s up?”

“Shh,” he hissed, pretending to browse the shelves while keeping an eye on the top of the aisle. “Act like you’re looking for something.”

I stared blankly at the shelves in front of us. “In the women’s sanitary products?”

He glanced back and blinked. “Shit. Never mind. Just don’t look. It’s him.”

So, of course, I looked, catching a glimpse of a twenty-something blond-haired man crossing the top of the aisle. He wore jeans, jandals, and a pink long-sleeved shirt. There was something about him that made my skin itch. No. It couldn’t be.

Mads elbowed me in the ribs. “I told you not to look.”

“Is that?—”

“Lee? Yes. Blond again. Come on.” Mads made a beeline after the guy.

I quickly trailed after him. “And do what?”

“Talk to him,” he answered, pausing at the top of the aisle to scan the area before racing off again.

I grabbed his arm. “Mads, slow down. People are looking.”

He glanced around and immediately slowed his pace. “Sorry. But he’s alone, Nick, and this is a busy public space. It’s a perfect opportunity and it might be the only one we get. Why the hell didn’t we bring one of those spare phones?”

Purchasing the two prepaid phones had been a last-minute suggestion by Gazza and a good one. In New Zealand, you weren’t required to register them like you were in Australia, and it would give Lee a way to get in contact without risking using his own phone.

Still... “We didn’t bring them because, in case you’ve forgotten, this wasn’t the plan.” I dropped his arm. “Come here and pretend we’re looking at a shopping list.” I pulled out my phone and we both peered at it. “You can’t be sure he’s alone. Marty could be in another aisle.”

Mads straightened and scanned the store. “Okay. So that’s not a terrible assumption. Good call.”

I raised a brow.

“But we can’t just let him leave without trying,” he insisted.

And he wasn’t wrong. We had Lee right in front of us and possibly alone.

Who knew if we would get another chance.

“Okay.” I pulled Mads aside to let a woman with a baby in a car seat clipped to her trolley pass by.

“Here’s the deal. If Lee is alone, you can approach while I keep a lookout.

” I grabbed a can of chilli from the discount shelf at the top of the aisle.

“But if I see anything I don’t like, I’ll drop this can and you get out of there as fast as humanly possible, got it? ”

Mads nodded distractedly.

“Mads?” I demanded.

He looked at me then. “Yes. Okay. I’ve got it. Now come on, before he leaves.”

He spun on his heels and took off at a fast walk leaving me trailing behind. I could only hope we wouldn’t regret this.

Lee was shopping in the cheese section of the deli when we finally caught up to him.

He was apparently alone, which got me second-guessing whether he had in fact been telling the truth and he was with Marty by choice.

But that couldn’t be right based on what Mads had seen on the boat. None of it made sense.

“I don’t like this,” I whispered. “It feels off.”

Mads all but ignored me as he began to approach Lee.

“Wait,” I snapped, keeping my voice down.

Mads turned; frustration etched in his expression. “What?”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say?”

He shrugged. “That’ll depend on whether he recognises me.”

“In that wig?” I scoffed. “I doubt it. You weren’t even sure he saw you on the boat. It was only for a couple of seconds as he passed the galley where you were hiding, right?”

Mads’ brows drew together in irritation. “But I saw him . It doesn’t really matter if he saw me. I’ll just play it by ear. You got a better idea?”

I didn’t. “Just be careful.”

He nodded and gave me a quick kiss. “I will.”