“Just promise me you’ll come back,” Gloria said in a low voice.
“You know I will.” Stella didn’t want to think about how much she and her mom were alike. More alike than she wanted to admit, because Stella didn’t like to do the mushy stuff. She didn’t do sentiment. It made her itchy and uncomfortable and tongue-tied.
Gloria leaned forward and picked at a blade of grass. “I just figured you’d eventually get tired of me.”
“Oh, well that’s still true.”
Her mom turned her focus to Stella and the two of them stared at each other for a moment. Then Gloria burst out laughing and Stella eventually followed. Because laughing was easier than admitting that she might actually miss her mom while she was gone.
Brandon was considering slapping Matt’s phone out of his hand. The kid had been texting his girlfriend since they’d left the produce section, all the way through dairy and halfway down the junk food aisle. He’d been attempting a conversation with Matt, but so far he’d yet to progress past a two-syllable “uh-huh.” Really chapped his ass. They were supposed to be shopping for dinner and so far Brandon had done all the shopping while Matt dragged his feet with his nose buried in his Samsung.
“Grab some oatmeal cookies, would you?” Brandon asked as he gave his list a cursory glance. Without looking up from the phone, Matt made a swipe for Fig Newtons and tossed them in the cart.
Brandon glared at Matt’s phone and counted to ten. “Get some chocolate syrup, too, so I can pour some over my head before I run around outside naked.” They weren’t even on the right aisle for the chocolate syrup, but Matt made a blind grab anyway. His hand made contact with a bag of Milano cookies, before they landed in the cart. Brandon yanked the phone out of his son’s hand, then smacked him upside the head.
“Ow! What gives?” Matt rubbed the spot where Brandon had hit him.
“You weren’t even paying attention,” Brandon pointed out.
“Yeah I was.”
Brandon jerked his head toward the half-full cart. “What’d you just put in there?”
Matt leaned over and gazed at the contents. “Uh…cookies?”
“And what did I ask for?
Matt blinked. “Cookies?”
Brandon rolled his eyes and replaced the Milanos back on the shelf. “Put the phone away,” he instructed.
They moved down the junk food aisle and turned down the next one. Matt shoved his hands in his pant pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Are we almost done? I have homework to do.”
Brandon snatched a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch off the shelf. “Is homework code for girlfriend?”
Matt’s look turned more solemn. “No, I really have homework.”
Brandon lifted a brow, then did a double take at the dark-haired woman at the end of the aisle studying a box of Pop-Tarts in one hand and holding her cell with the other. Brandon pushed his cart toward Stella.
Why? Because he was sick in the head and needed help. Like serious help. Because Stella Davenport drove him crazy. When she wasn’t setting his neglected hormones on fire, she was lecturing him about sticking his seventeen-year-old in ballet lessons.
Woman had lost her damn mind.
Or maybe he was the one who’d lost his mind, because he was actually walking toward her instead of hightailing it in the other direction.
“The cherry Pop-Tarts have two hundred calories and sixteen grams of sugar,” Stella was saying as he and Matt approached. She put the cherry flavor back and chose another box. “The chocolate fudge also have two hundred calories, but seventeen grams of sugar.” She glanced at Brandon, then pointed to her cell and mouthed the word mother. “I say go for the chocolate fudge. You only live once.” Stella paused as she listened. “This store doesn’t have vegan Pop-Tarts, Mom.” She blew out a breath and dropped her head back. Then she put the chocolate Pop-Tarts back and reached for the wildberry. “Those have one hundred and ninety calories and sixteen grams of sugar. They don’t have unfrosted ones either and even if they did, who in the world eats unfrosted Pop-Tarts? That’s like scraping the cream out of Oreos.”
Beside him Matt chuckled. Stella tossed them a glare and Brandon bit back his own laughter. She was so damn cute when her cheeks were all red and flushed. Brandon imagined that’s how she’d look after being thoroughly kissed.
Stella switched the cell to her other ear. “How about something besides Pop-Tarts?” She listened for a moment. “I’m not reading the nutrition facts for every Pop-Tart flavor there is. Well, how about I surprise you?” She replaced the wildberry and went for the birthday cake flavor and threw them in her cart. “Okay, then. Wait, what’s that?” Stella shouted. “You’re breaking up real bad, Mom. I gotta go, love you.” She blew out a breath and terminated the phone call.
“I feel like I need an exorcism.”
“Your mom sounds funny,” Matt quipped.
“Yeah, well, it’s all fun and games until she has you reading the fat content of all the Pop-Tarts.”
Brandon lifted a brow at her cart. “So you went with birthday cake?”
She shrugged both shoulders. “I have a sick sense of humor.” She took her time perusing his and Matt’s cart, taking in everything from the salmon to the cookies. “Interesting combination.”
“This kid doesn’t know the meaning of the word healthy.” Brandon jerked his thumb at Matt, who gave Stella a huge grin. As in a shit-eating-I-just-won-the-lottery grin. Shit. His kid didn’t have the hots for Stella, did he? Not that Brandon blamed him. Matt would have to be blind not to be enamored by Ms. Davenport.
Matt nudged Brandon’s ribs. “You picked out the cereal.”
“Because it’s the one you like.”
Stella folded her arms over the cart handle. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a health nut,” she said to Brandon.
“He just likes to tell people that,” Matt piped in. “But he’s a closet junk food junkie.”
Brandon turned toward his son. “Who killed off the rest of the ice cream last night?”
“That was after you ate half the gallon.”
Stella leaned forward, giving Brandon a whiff of her hair, which was dark and shiny and smelled like summer and fresh air. Though it wasn’t summer, Stella had always reminded him of long summer days and warm breezes.
And look at him with all the poetry.
“You’re not an emotional eater, are you?” she questioned.
“He totally is,” Matt answered.
Brandon just glared.
But Matt ignored him. “Last year when the Broncos lost in the playoffs, he finished an entire bag of barbecue chips.”
Brandon glared at his son. “That was because you ate the last hamburger.”
Matt’s grin grew. “Actually Cameron ate the last hamburger. I ate the last hot dog.”
“Either way,” Brandon cut in. “The two of you hogged the food like a couple of toddlers.”
“Sounds like the both of you have issues,” Stella joked.
Matt chuckled; then his face sobered. “Hey, my buddy Evan said he’s taking classes with you.”
Stella’s brow lifted, which accompanied an evil curl of her lips. “Really?” she asked with a pointed look at Brandon.