I’m nothing if not direct. I still have a grocery-shopping contest to win, after all.
“Y’know, to be honest, now probably isn’t the best time to invest in real estate. I’m going up for a promotion soon and if that happens, I’ll have a bit more income to play around with.”
I’d hold up my hands to stop him if they weren’t full. “Of course! Believe me, I understand. I have dreams of moving out of my crappy apartment one day too.”
He smiles and catches the attention of another shopper, who passes extremely slowly with her cart. Like I said, it’s the uniform.
“I am in the market for a date though.”
My attention jerks back to him. “What?”
“C’mon, Madeleine. I know the timing didn’t work so well last time, but we had a good time, didn’t we?”
“You never called me about a second date,” I admit sheepishly.
His brows arch as if in shock. “I must have been busy with work or something, because believe me, I was interested then, and I’m interested now.”
“Oh…ha. I don’t think…I mean, I’m flattered.”
I am, seriously. Up until the last few weeks, I would have crawled on my hands and knees for some male attention, and now suddenly I’m at the grocery being asked out while on a date. Is Mercury in retrograde or something? Wait, what does that even mean?
“C’mon, you aren’t seeing anyone, are you? I asked Daisy at the mixer and she said you were dating, but it was nothing serious.”
At that precise moment, I spot Adam push a cart around the corner, and for some reason, I panic. It feels like I’m cheating on him, like I’ve snuck off in the middle of our date to have a rendezvous in the dairy section with Carter. Adam’s expression as Carter and I come into view only solidifies my guilt. It sits like heavy sludge in my stomach.
“Madeleine?” Carter asks, trying to figure out why I’ve suddenly gone mute.
Adam stops his cart beside ours and glances back and forth between us.
“Cameron, hey.”
“Oh, it’s Carter.”
“Right. Madeleine, did you get all the stuff on the list?”
I look down at the pitiful stack in my arms. I still have a ways to go, and now it looks like I’ve been here dilly-dallying with Carter instead of shopping.
“I had trouble finding the right cheese,” I offer lamely.
Carter laughs. “I helped. No worries.”
Adam doesn’t laugh, and I can’t be sure, but I think most of the cheese melts off the shelf when Adam’s laser-beam gaze slices through Carter.
To cut the tension, I drop my stack of ingredients in Adam’s cart. Carter notices and holds up his hands in innocence. “Sorry, are you guys…together? I would have never—”
“Oh, yeah. I mean—”
“You didn’t say you were here with someone.”
Now Adam’s laser beams are aimed at me. I fire mine right back at him.
“I didn’t really have the chance.”
My excuse sounds pitiful even to my own ears.
“Umm.” A short middle-aged woman with a baby strapped to her front tries to shove past us. “Would it be possible for me to get to the cheese for a second?”
“Oh yeah, of course.”
I step away and give her room to browse.
Carter backs up and nods. “I’ll see you two around. I need to get these groceries home before my stomach growls at me again.”
I laugh and wave him off, hoping the tension will drift away with him.
Shocker—it doesn’t.
Adam is moody as we push our cart through the store, finishing up with the second half of the list. I try to distract him with my most winning smile, and when that doesn’t work, I throw some Oreos in the cart. Everyone loves Oreos, right? His scowl doesn’t budge, not even with the promise of double-stuffed cream filling.
“It took me a while back there because I got caught up in the tomato section.” I laugh. “You realize you have the worst handwriting ever, right?”
He takes the list out of my hand without returning my smile. “My staff at the clinic can read it just fine.”
He might as well be Mr. Freeze with the way he gives me the cold shoulder through the rest of the store.
I don’t even bother trying to create idle chitchat after that; I just finish off my bag of chips and mind my own business. If he wants to play Mr. Jealous, he can play by himself.
At checkout, he refuses to let me pay for half, and seems somehow insulted that I would even offer. I think I could do just about anything at this point and he would find fault with it. Plastic?! Who gets plastic bags?
“Oh, and these,” I say to the cashier, holding up the barcoded side of my chip bag. She scans it without a second glance, and I stroll out of the store and head for Adam’s car wearing a gratified smile.