“We’re fine, thanks.”
Olivia squawked loudly, as if to say, No, father of mine, I am distinctly not ‘fine.’
I bit back a smile. “Can I help?”
Sawyer took off his baseball cap, ran a hand through his loose, dark blond curls, then put it back on with a tired sigh. “She finished all of her strawberries and I don’t want to feed her a bunch of crap baby snacks.”
“How about one good one?” I held up the box of biscuits. “Talk about old school. I can’t believe they still make these. They’re like dog bones for babies.”
“Dog bones?” Sawyer took the box out of my hands and scanned the ingredients. Or at least I think he did—it took only a second before he handed it back. “Yeah, looks okay but…”
“Great.” I opened the box and tore apart the plastic bag inside.
“What are you doing? I haven’t paid for those,” Sawyer said, then muttered, “Guess I am now...”
“You won’t regret it.” I offered Olivia an oblong piece of the toast and she reached for it with one chubby little hand. “My mom gave my sister and me these things when we were little,” I said. “They take some serious slobbering to turn into mush, and that’ll give you time to shop.”
Sawyer peered into the stroller, which had gone quiet as Olivia happily worked on the biscuit.
“Oh. Okay. Thanks,” Sawyer said slowly. He took the box from me and tried to make room under the stroller amid the avocado, turkey slices, pineapple, peas and squash.
“Are you on a raw food diet?” I asked.
“That’s all for her,” Sawyer said.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you eat food?”
“In theory,” he said. “I have a date with aisle twelve, actually, so if you’ll excuse me...”
I scanned the aisle markers. I found twelve and wrinkled my nose. “Frozen dinners? That doesn’t sound healthy. You prepare all this fresh food for her but none for yourself?”
“I don’t have room to carry a whole lot more,” he said. “I’ll be okay, thanks for your concern…”
“I’ll help,” I said. “What do you want? I’ll carry it for you.”
Sawyer sighed. “Listen…Darlene? That’s nice of you to offer, and thanks for the crackers, but I’m good. After she goes to bed, I’ll throw something in the microwave and hit the books.” He stopped, shook his head, perplexed. “Why am I explaining this? I have to go.”
He started to walk away and I was tempted to let him. He was kind of a jerk, but that was probably the exhaustion. I tried to imagine what it would be like taking care of an entire little human being all by myself. It was hard enough taking care of one adult me. I decided to set aside Sawyer’s gruffness (and his ridiculous attractiveness) and help the guy out. Be neighborly.
“You’re being so silly right now,” I called after him.
He stopped, turned. “Silly?”
“Yes! I’m right here. Let me help you.” I crossed my arms. “How long has it been since you’ve had a really nice meal for yourself?” He didn’t say anything but stared back at me.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”
“Now you’re going to cook for me? We met eight seconds ago.”
“So?”
Sawyer blinked. “So…you don’t have to cook for me.”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to. We’re neighbors.” I peered at the aisle markers again to get my bearings. “I was going to make tuna casserole. Mostly because it’s the only thing I know how to make. How does that sound?” I squatted beside the stroller. “Do you like casserole, sweet pea?”