Page 10 of Double Booked

“So did I.”

“I have more in the truck.” He turned and went back outside. The temperature had fallen throughout the day, and the air was brisk compared to the cozy warmth of the cabin. He slung his camera bag across his body and took the remaining grocery bags out of the back. When he reentered the cabin, she was standing at the kitchen counter.

“Is that everything?” she asked.

“Yeah. It should last me the week.”

Her eyes widened. “Only a week?”

“Give or take a few days.” He started unpacking the bags while she watched. Am I supposed to make small talk? He put away the cold items first, noticing that they’d bought some of the same things, including bacon, one of his favorites.

“I bought bacon too,” she said.

“I see that.”

“Next time, we should compare lists.”

He gazed at her with surprise. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to share anything with him.

“It just makes sense. For example, do we really need two gallons of milk?”

“Probably not.”

“Speaking of lists…”

He’d turned away and was placing the deli meats into the refrigerator next to hers. Ham, turkey, cheddar cheese. Evidently, they had a similar taste in food.

“While you were gone, I made a list of house rules.”

He lifted his head and banged it on the top of the refrigerator. “Dammit!” He turned toward her, rubbing his head. “A list of rules?”

“Um-hmm. Since we’re going to be cohabitating, I thought it was a good idea.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you consider asking me for input?”

Planting her hands on her hips—her perfectly curvy hips—she glared back at him. “You weren’t here. I thought we could review it once you got back.”

“Right now?”

“We can wait until you’re done putting the groceries away.”

“Thank you,” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. He continued unpacking the bags and avoided eye contact with her. He was starting to think she brought out the worst in him.

He pulled out a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts and she gasped. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“I bought those too!”

She sounded excited unless he was imagining it. “They’re my guilty pleasure. Well, one of them.”

“Mine too! I never thought I’d meet anyone over age ten who likes them as much as I do.”

He thought he’d understood women until now. She got this excited over a box of Pop-Tarts?

She went on. “I always loved them as a kid, but my parents rarely bought them. I couldn’t wait to get my own apartment and stock the pantry with them.”

He gazed at her with a combination of amusement and interest. Who was this woman, and what made her tick?

She flapped her hands like she was embarrassed. “Anyway, I was just surprised to see you bought them, too.”