to add to whatever Angie planned to cook.
He’d no more than scanned the canned goods in the pantry when he heard a car pull up. Knowing it had to be her, he went outside to greet her.
As she climbed out of the driver’s seat of a black Toyota Celica that had seen better years, let alone days, she reached into the back for the first of two eco-friendly bags. Her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail when she’d been at Redmond-Fortune Air, but it hung loose around her shoulders now—soft, glossy and teased by a light evening breeze.
She wasn’t wearing anything different—just that black skirt and white blouse. Yet tonight, for some crazy reason, he found himself a wee bit... Hell, he didn’t know what to call it—starstruck, stagestruck, dumbstruck...?
“Here. Let me help you with those.” He reached for the bags, and she handed them over.
As they headed for the house, he said, “I’m sorry for not having stuff on hand to cook. When I lived by myself, I could go weeks without grocery shopping. But since the kids have been living here, it seems like I need to restock my fridge every other day.”
She tossed him a carefree smile. “You should probably shop at one of those warehouse stores where you can buy in bulk and use a flatbed cart to haul your purchases to the checkout line.”
“If I didn’t have to drive clear to Lubbock to find one, I would. But then again, the kids wouldn’t get to come into the Superette all the time and see you.”
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