At the grocery, she grabbed a few things lest the night clerk think that she had actually jumped in her car and driven down for something as singularly sinful and indulgent as a brownie. She picked up enough trash bags to last through the millennium, some laundry soap in the event she took up laundry as opposed to sending it out, and an extra-large box of super-duty tampons, as they were on sale. With her finances in the shape they were in, that was definitely not a product she wanted to take a chance on running low.
With those items in her basket, she nonchalantly strolled to the deli counter.
The counter was closed, but the deli guy had left a basket on the counter with the day’s unsold products, nicely wrapped and dated. Rachel rifled through the cookies and brownies until she found an enormous double-chocolate brownie that looked to be about as big as her head. She shoved it down into her little basket, then walked briskly to the front.
When she paid for her items, she walked outside, paused next to the trash can to pull out the brownie, and unwrapped it. She was running a little late and wouldn’t have time to scarf it all before class, but why not have a little taste? She was about to wrap it up again when she suddenly felt the presence of someone close by. She stopped mid-munch and slowly turned her head.
There was a man in a suit standing before her, his hands shoved deep in his trench coat, his grin nice and wide. Rachel was so badly startled that when she tried to step out of his way, she dropped her bag, and the tampons went shooting out across the walk, which, naturally, she couldn’t catch because she had a giant brownie in her hand.
“What a happy coincidence,” the Brit said cheerfully. And as he dipped down to retrieve her tampons, he smiled so warmly at her that he damn near melted her brownie.
Chapter Five
Rachel sprang into action, swooping down on the tampon box like a buzzard on roadkill, as Grandpa used to say, snatching it at the exact same time he wrapped his big hand around it. They looked at each other, the tampons between them. “I’ve got it,” she said, and jerked it out of his hand. Only it took her two hands to grab it, the box was so enormous. He was surely thinking she had some sort of horrific problem and she quickly stood up, which caused her to make a little sound of pain when her legs barked at her.
“Are you all right?” bonny Prince Charlie asked, standing smoothly and effortlessly, holding her trash bags in one hand, the bag with the laundry soap in the other.
“Yes,” Rachel said, trying desperately to juggle tampons and the brownie.
“This is a little strange, isn’t it?” he laughed.
Well, of course it was, and she could feel her face growing hot with humiliation for the second time that day. “Not really. They were having a sale,” she said as she finally managed to balance the tampons between her arm and her chest, the brownie on top.
He glanced at the tampons. “Actually, I meant running into one another again,” he said, smiling, and before she had the opportunity to just die right there, he smoothly changed the subject. “You must live in the area, eh?”
Rachel looked at him fully then, noticed for the first time that he had the sexy shadow of a beard, and his hair was a little mussed.
“Do you?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, startled.
“Live in the area.”
“Oh!” Rachel put her free hand to her nape. “Umm . . . well, as a matter of fact, I do. Do you?” she asked suspiciously.
He shook his head. “I’ve only recently arrived, and at present, I’m staying with friends nearby. I quite like the area, however. It’s rather quaint, really, and the people are remarkably friendly.”
So what was that, some sort of dry-humored British joke? The people around here didn’t make eye contact. Or was he making a dig at her? She hadn’t been exactly friendly, but honestly, she’d been smelly and sweaty and—
“By the bye, I hope you will forgive my demanding a cup of coffee earlier,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I suppose that was a bit forward of me.”
“Oh no!” she said instantly, blushing furiously. “No, I didn’t think . . . I mean, I didn’t, ah . . . I was really in a rush,” she babbled, and noticed he still held her things in his hands. Very big hands to match his broad shoulders. Rachel couldn’t help herself; she glanced at his feet. A healthy size—she could just hear Robin now, “Big hands, big feet, big—”
“Yes, well, I can’t have you thinking the worst. But I’ve only been in the States a few days, and I was a bit anxious for a chat with anyone who is not taking my money for some service.”
Why in God’s name would he want to chat with her, especially having actually seen her this morning? She nodded, peeked sheepishly up at him. “Could I, ah . . . just have that, please?” she asked, nodding at her items.