ChapterOne
Cameron
We met in the cereal aisle…
I hate food shopping. So boring. And even worse, it’s the day before Easter weekend, meaning everyone needs to buy all the fucking food because shops being closed for just one day seems to be traumatising for them. I’ve heard multiple times disgruntled shoppers saying how outrageous it is that they’ll be shut, and I’ve rolled my eyes at every single one, because, come on, get a goddamn life. But as I make my way around the store, ticking things off my list, I only have one more aisle to go down, and I’ve had to turn the trolley around to go there because even with a bloody list I’ve managed to miss it. Happens every single time. I should really just switch to ordering all of this stuff online.
I huff as I make my way to the cereal aisle to pick up the box of bran my grandmother wants. I adore my grandmother, and if she wants bran, she gets bran, but so God help me as I wade my way through all of the pensioners that seem to want the same thing. There are literally four of them huddled by the box that I need to grab, and they’re all looking at the back of the box as if they’re not in the way and I have all day, like they seem to.
I wait a few minutes, tapping my foot gently and cursing them silently in my head.
“No, Audrey, this isn’t the one,” one of them says as they put the cereal back and pick up another box to study for the next half an hour. Fuck’s sake, I’m going to be late for my meeting.
“Excuse me, please,” I say sweetly, pushing down my annoyance.
Four sets of eyes turn to look at me, and for some reason, it makes me gulp as if I’ve done something wrong.
“Uh, can I just grab that box there,” I say as I point to the motherfucking bran I need.
“Move down, Harry,” one of the women say as they all follow suit and scooch down a tad before their attention goes back to the goddamn box.
My God, if I end up that obsessed over cereal, then just kill me, because clearly I’ve had a cracking life and can accomplish no more if cereal is what it is all about.
I manoeuvre my trolley so it’s not in anyone’s way and reach my arm up for the box of bran, which is on the top shelf. But as I reach for it, so does someone else, and when their hand accidentally covers mine, I feel a jolt shoot through me like nothing I have felt before.
I quickly pull my hand back and turn to see the most delicious looking guy I have ever laid eyes on, and by delicious, I mean fucking scrumptious.
“Sorry,” he says, and oh dear lord, his voice is deep and husky, making my pussy suddenly wake up and tingle. “I didn’t mean to, uh…” His voice trails off as he points to the cereal to explain.
“It’s no problem,” I say, all breathy and shit. My God, I’ve lost the ability to function as his piercing turquoise-coloured eyes look into mine. They’re like the colour of the ocean when it’s clear and beautiful.
“I just didn’t want to upset the crew over there by asking them to move along some more,” he says with a smirk, and I feel my lips pull into a smile. “They take this shit seriously, especially on a Saturday morning,” he continues, and I start to laugh. Hot as fuck and funny… he’s really not making this very fair to other guys.
“Picking cereal is very important,” I say to him quietly, so they don’t overhear me.
“So it seems. I look forward to the day when that is my biggest problem,” he says with that sinfully sexy smirk still gracing his lips. I should just be grabbing what I need and going now, but I can’t pull my eyes from him.
“Listen, I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but… would you like to grab a cup of coffee? Lord knows I need it after the trauma I’ve suffered in here this morning,” he says, and my heart starts to beat a little faster. Coffee? With a stranger?
“I’d love to.” And just like that, shopping in the cereal aisle became my new favourite thing to do on a Saturday morning.
We bonded over coffee…
“You are not thirty-nine,” I say, astounded, because this guy doesn’t look anywhere near to nearly being forty years old.
“Guilty,” he says as he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Wow. I sure don’t remember a time I saw a nearly forty-year-old look as good as… well, you,” I say without thinking. I suddenly hear my words repeating in my head, and I want the ground to swallow me up. Face palm moment.
He laughs, and a few crinkles at the edges of his eyes appear, but they just add to his appeal. Never thought I’d be crushing on a guy who is twenty years my senior, but okay, he’s clearly the exception.
“And at the risk of totally ruining this moment… you gonna tell me your age?” he asks, and I feel mischievous all of a sudden.
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’.
“No?” he asks, to which I simply sip my coffee, hiding my smile behind the rim of the cup. “Hmm, well, I guess in that case, how about dinner tonight? So I can guess your age, of course.”
I don’t even need to think about it.