Page 73 of What We Break
"Someone has to be the responsible one." I'm pulling back into my parking space without really thinking about it. Just... easing right back in. Like my car knows something I won't admit to. "What about you? Big Saturday plans?"
"Blake's already buried in his workshop, so I'm just... I don't know. Wandering around the house looking for something to do."
There's something in his voice. Not sad exactly, but maybe a little restless. Like he's feeling the same Saturday morning aimlessness I was trying to shake off five minutes ago by aggressively writing a grocery list.
"That sounds rough," I say.
"Yeah, well. I was thinking..." He pauses, and I can almost hear him thinking "This might be weird, but would you mind if I came along? To the grocery store, I mean. I need to pick up some stuff anyway, and..." He trails off. "I just want to see you. Even if it's just pushing a cart around."
My freaking heart. "You want to go grocery shopping with me?"
"I know it's not exactly exciting. But honestly, I'd watch you do laundry if it meant hanging out with you."
"Reid." I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. "I would love the company."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."
"You don't have to pick me up. I can drive."
"Nope. My list, my rules. Besides, I'm going near your place to get to the good grocery store."
"There's agoodgrocery store?"
"Oh, you poor man. You have so much to learn."
Eighteen minutes later, I'm pulling into Reid's driveway and he'salready outside. Sitting on the porch like he's been there a while. Jeans, a t-shirt that's one wash cycle from becoming a dust rag, hair doing that thing where it looks like he raked his hand through it once and called it done.
He was waiting on the porch. For grocery shopping. With me. Like a golden retriever who heard the car keys jingle.
Who does that?
Reid's in the passenger seat before I've even fully stopped, and then his hands are on my face. Thumbs on my cheekbones, tilting me toward him, and his mouth finds mine like it's the only thing he's been thinking about since I left his bed. The kiss starts soft. Lasts about two seconds that way. Then it's deep and a little desperate, and I'm gripping the front of that threadbare shirt, feeling the warmth of him bleed through the cotton.
Thank god I jammed my foot on the brake.
We pull apart. Both breathing too hard. His eyes are glazed, unfocused, like he forgot where we are. His thumb drags across my lower lip and I have to lock my elbows to keep from hauling him back.
We just look at each other.
We could go inside. It would be so, so easy. I don't need groceries. Nobody needs groceries. Who even eats anymore when I could just?—
Okay. Not going there. Not yet. Groceries, Mitchell. You have a list. You wrote it on the back of a gas receipt like a functioning adult.
"Hi," he says. Voice like gravel.
It takes me a second to remember how to speak. "Hi yourself." Then I just grin at him like a complete lunatic. Full teeth. Possibly unhinged. Very attractive. "Right. What are we doing again?"
He laughs and tugs me close. This time the kiss is sweet and soft. I can't decide which one I like better. This man knows what he's doing.
And I'm sure he knows how to do a lot of other things too.
DOWN, Mitchell.
"Groceries, baby. Groceries."
The way he says baby — that grit, that warmth — sends a full shiver through me. He catches it. Of course he catches it. His grin goes smug instantly.
