Evan
Stomach growling, I stepped inside the grocery store, grabbing a green basket for my items, when a certain little redhead fell into my peripheral vision. I hadn’t seen her in fifteen long and lonely days, but who was counting? I wondered if she’d forgotten about me, and a strange pang in my chest made me absently rub the spot like I’d been wounded or sucker-punched by her absence. She made it clear she wanted space, and I gave it to her begrudgingly.
Remington attempted to navigate a handful of items in her arm with the baby carrier in her other hand. The carrier seemed too big for her thin arms. She had a carriage close by but courted that overwhelmed momma bear look to not leave him for even a second strapped in and secure. Ethan was covered by a blanket, so I couldn’t see how much the little guy had grown in my absence, but curiosity had me shuffling over. Worry filled the pit of my stomach, and I wondered if she was eating enough, sleeping enough. The bar didn’t close until 2:00 a.m. most nights. I put my basket down and nudged it out of the way with my foot as I stepped closer.
“Whoa, little momma.” I couldn’t help the nickname that slipped from my mouth, catching her when she grimaced, struggling to squeeze a large pack of diapers into the cart.
“I got…it.” Her eyes met mine from under her wild red bun of loose curls and battled something between annoyance and joy.
“Remington.” Her name was like a benediction from my lips as I explored her from the top of her messy hair to the holey thin sweatpants currently hugging her legs and speaking my love language. The grocery store played Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars in the background, and I pondered when emo rock made it to the produce section. I was definitely chasing something, and it wasn’t a car. Last time I did that, she almost gave birth in the back seat of my patrol vehicle.
“I need to go.” Her lips tightened in a flat line as she pushed the cart forward.
I stepped in front of it, blocking her exit. I hadn’t seen her in more than two weeks. I didn’t want her to go, and the beating rumble in my chest didn’t like the alternative. “Let me, please.”
She avoided eye contact. I didn’t like that at all.
Rushing over to help her might not have been the best idea, but she was either going to let me, or risk having an explosion of baby items from her full cart. I regretted leaving last time; I wasn’t leaving today.
“Always so stubborn.” I crossed my arms, refusing to budge.
“Always the good guy, huh?” Remi dismissed me. I liked that even less. She put up impenetrable walls. I got it. I did, but I needed to help her more than she needed to refuse me right now.
“Always so skeptical?” I moved around her to hold the cart handle.
Shrugging, she rolled her eyes, and let me push the cart. Grinning like an idiot, I considered it a win.
Remi nudged my shoulder, giving me a tiny smile, “Thanks.”
“No problem, besides I didn’t want to wait until you were in line, juggling all of this. That’s worse than writing a check in the credit lane.”
She chuffed. “I’d never do that.” Her voice quieted as her fingers trailed over a row of canned items as if wistfully deciding between baked beans or baby corn.
Right and I could kick myself for being an insensitive ass because she probably didn’t have that kind of cash flow pinching pennies like I knew she did.
I muttered, “Sorry.
”
“That’s what she said.” Chuckling, she elbowed me.
I placed my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to me. Warmth radiated into my side from her body. I hadn’t held her like this since the hospital. She fit under my arm perfectly, tempting me further.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” I squeezed her gently.
I worked overtime shifts as penance for the car cleaning and hadn’t been by the bar lately. But every shift I’d drive by, covering the center of town so I’d see her light on upstairs. I was unsure if I should call her or stop by because she’d told me not to. Made it clear she was off limits. When had I ever doubted myself with the ladies? I did with this one.
Even my fingers itched to text her. I should have, but I didn’t. Remington Kennedy twisted me up, forcing feelings I hadn’t felt since I first started pursuing girls in high school. Me, Evan Rooney, the self-proclaimed bachelor and hook-up king was feeling like the ultimate rookie here. I was no better than her ex, Ryder West.
“I thought about calling you—or texting,” she murmured shyly.
“Little liar,” I teased.
“It never seemed the right time you know? One minute I would think I had this handled pretty well and then Ethan would have a poop explosion or a crying jag.” She blushed prettily, cupping one cheek as if she didn’t realize she was doing it. It was easy to forget we were talking about infant poop and tears. “I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s okay. I don’t know much about babies, but anytime you want to call you know you can, okay?” I’d never done anything like this before, and unless you counted getting grill-able food items to cook when Kristen would come over for dinner and a fuck. Even now that sounded bad, but that’s what it was and this was domestic, sweet, and leaving me wanting more—minus the shit of course.
“Yeah?” I got a half smile out of her and that was good enough for now.