“Well . . . thank you.” He returns his hands to the shopping cart. I watch his knuckles turn white. “Right. Shall we check out, then?” I cannot get enough of his speech. Shall we? He sounds straight from the tower of historical romances on my nightstand, and it makes me smile in spite of myself. I hoist the basket tighter in my arms, value-sized lube and overnight pads for all to see. “I believe we shall.”
