Knock Love Out (A Sensual New Adult Crossover Romance) (3 page)

The poor Schweddy Balls gets left behind, as me and my flip-flops run away, loudly squeaking toward the automatic doors.

Chapter Five

After the Mariah Carey highly embarrassing dance episode, I planned on never returning to Valentine’s Grocery for the remainder of my humble existence.

Unfortunately, Adam happens to favor their store brand ice cream. He’s been bugging me for three weeks.
Three weeks
.

Today, he finally broke this horse.

The automatic doors greet me with a cold whoosh of air as I step inside. Cash is ringing up a woman, toward the end of the store. I walk quickly to the frozen foods, headed straight for the ice cream, and quickly scan the titles, looking for rocky road.

Like the idiot couldn’t have just eaten another brand.

I give a tug to the freezer door and quickly pick one out. Two. I pick out.
Two
. That should hold him over for a bit. Turning the corner, heading for the register to check out … it’s like the Sky Wizard hates me.

One register open. Number five. Cash waiting. Hair mocking me with its obvious sexual nature. Absurd crap to say—I know—but I see the way it’s looking at me. Might as well be sticking out its non-existent tongue. Bad body part to think about.

The corner of his mouth lifts. My knees aren’t faring so well. He notices my hesitation, picking up the phone behind him by the register, he presses a button.

“
Attention customers, we are featuring a special in the frozen food section. With every purchase you make today, Mariah Carey will dance for you.”

Adam is going to have to find another brand of goddamn ice cream.

I eye the automatic doors.

The Sky Wizard is definitely a man. “
Your choice of song.”

I drop the basket and sprint, but damn it, youth and speed of a gazelle—The Produce Gem cuts me off, arms extended to block my escape. A laugh that would be adorable if it wasn’t directed at
me
.

“I couldn’t resist, Lilla. I’m sorry.” His stomach rolls with amusement.

“Stop laughing at me.” Please don’t cry.

He keeps his arms out, blocking my path.

“Just wait a sec.” Sobering up. “Don’t run, okay?” Lowers his arms. “I have your cookies.”

“What cookies?”

“You had Thin Mints. The Girls Scouts?” He motions to the doors. “When you dropped your basket …
that
night
.” His lips fight a smile. “I have them in my car if you want them. The
Schweddy Balls
had to go back on the shelf, though. Sorry.” He has really white teeth.

“Uhm …”

“I can run to the car and get them if you fear being kidnapped or something.”

“Are you planning on doing that?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I figured it was best to tell you beforehand. Follow me, please.” Cash turns and heads for the doors.

“Wait, I need to buy this,” I raise the basket in my hand, containing the ice cream that will be melted to crap by the time I get home.

He waves me on. “Consider it customer service at its finest.”

I pause as he steps outside, making sure my feet are still legally within the store.

“I am not stealing, Cash.” The door slides closed. I step back and then forward, making it open again. “I’m not a thief.”

He replies, but the door closes and I don’t hear him.

It reopens as he does this two step-thing. “You aren’t. My fa—” The door closes again. He grumbles, stepping forward to make it open and tugs gently on my arm, effectively pulling me outside. “My father owns this place. Whatever is in the store belongs to our family. Essentially
me
. Got it, Mariah?”

“Your dad is Mr. Valentine?”

“Someone ate her Wheaties this morning. Now, are you coming with me or not?”

Of course he’s a Valentine. Look at him; he’s the pure definition of the word. “With.”

“Good.” He digs keys out of his pocket, heading towards the parking lot. “Fuck, it’s as miserable outside as it is inside that place.”

Cash tugs at his apron strings pulling it free, and tosses it above a black car. He pauses and pulls the blue polo shirt off too, revealing a lot of skin. I lied. The Sky Wizard must be on my side, after all.

“Your cookies are no doubt melted. You’re just lucky I didn’t eat them, I guess. Sorry.” Cash bends, looking inside the car from the driver’s side door. Two perfect dimples are imprinted into the smooth skin of his lower back.

He emerges with a brown paper bag.

“Here you go, ma’am.”

I take the bag, trying to divert my eyes from ogling and look to my hands.

“That’s an ugly word to use for a woman, but, thanks for saving my cookies.”

“Actually, I should be thanking
you
. That little number in the chips aisle was the best day I’ve worked here.” He smiles. “If only you had on those cut-off pants she used to wear …”

I suck in a deep guilt-ridden breath.

Cash notices, leans forward. “You own some,
don’t
you?”

I shake my head quickly, not trusting my former torn-waistband-jeans-wearing-self to speak. He smiles and goes back to searching his car. This time he grabs a white shirt and slips it over his head. Along the bottom is colorful paint splotches.

“Moonlighting as a painter?” I ask.

He didn’t seem to notice the marks until I pointed them out. His fingers pop the bottom of his shirt dismissively. “The grocery store is my moonlight. The paint is everything outside of those doors.”

“You don’t like working for your family?”

“It’s a bit complicated for a parking lot conversation—especially—when it’s nearing ninety fucking degrees on this blacktop.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

Cash closes his car door, keeping his eyes on me. “Yeah you were. And I don’t mind. Just not here.”

From the front doors of Valentine’s Grocery, a loud whistle sings. Heath waves at Cash and then cups his hands to yell across the parking lot, “Your dad said if your ass wasn’t back in the stockroom in five minutes you should find a new person to call dad.”

Cash looks back to me. “I vote to find a new person to call dad. Want to run away with me?”

Basically, the whole reason I’m here. “I thought I was being lured to your car to be kidnapped?”

He shines brighter as I play along. “It was purely a question of warning.”

“So I should run, then?”

Cash stares at me for a moment, his eyes trailing down to the bag in my hand. Or so, I thought.

“Pretty sure we both have to go back to the moonlight job, Lilla.”

This gold band around my finger burns.

“Yeah,” I say, sadly, “I guess we do. Thanks for saving my cookies. And for the ice cream.”

“Hey,” he calls, “I like to go to Sunrise Park, after work. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”

“Where is that?”

“You’ve never been?” I shake my head to his displeasure. “How long have you been married?”

“Adam’s not really … that sort of guy.”

“What kind of guy is that?” Cash asks.

“The kind of guy that would want to go hang out in a park?”

“Is he the kind of guy who likes talking to his beautiful wife? Kissing her? Copping a feel? ’Cause, I’m pretty sure that’s the whole backstory to taking the wife to the park. Not for trees and bird watching, Lilla.”

I look away.

“He’s just not very romantic.
That
type of person.”

“Are
you
?”

Yes. Absolutely. Can we go there now, please?

“I guess it’s my story that is too complicated for a parking lot conversation, Cash.”

Cash dims at my words, but says, “Then I hope to see you where Dandelion Street meets Sunrise Park Avenue. Around seven,” before he heads back to the store.

I don’t have the nerve to meet him at the park tonight, or even the next. When I make a stop at the store the following week I don’t see Cash working. And when I’m home, my mind constantly travels back to him; this stranger I don’t know. So anxiously I count down the days until I can justify (lie) to Adam about having to make a trip to Tangerine. To only get there and see Cash—then hide in the other aisles and talk myself out of walking by him.

Today when I find myself brave enough to walk through the produce department, he’s unpacking a box of herb plants. I linger by the oranges in hopes he will spot me and say hi, first, but he doesn’t. When I get closer, I see he has music tucked into his left ear. Cash smiles when he sees me, but keeps working.

“How much?” I ask, pointing to the plants.

He pulls the music from his ear, the wire from the iPod tucked under his shirt.

“Depends who is asking.”

I smile. There it is. That little game. “A girl who desperately wants to have a fresh herb garden.”

“Is that your Eden?”

I laugh. “My what?”

“Your passion. Your center.”

I stare at him. “My
paint
?”

Cash goes back to working but smiles. “Exactly.”

“I always wanted to have a garden. Adam thinks I’ll kill it, though. That it’s a waste of time. Money.”

“So, your husband thinks your Eden is a waste of time? That sounds promising, Lilla.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure. The housing market isn’t what it used to be.”

Cash laughs, tossing an empty box to the side. “My dad is the owner of a grocery store. You think I never saw a man under pressure growing up? I can tell you this much—my mother never told him he was wasting his time. Even if she thought so.”

“Then I’d say he’s really lucky, Cash.”

“Not really, considering this store is on its ass. He’s loved. That’s the word he is. He’s loved for trying. For having a dream to share.” Cash scoops the empty cartons up and puts them in a shopping cart, then hands me a basil plant. “Price is all a matter of what you’re willing to trade to get what you want.”

I swallow down my nerves. “How far back will this set me?”

“Hopefully far enough to rethink shitty ideas Adam has about your dreams.”

“I really loved the eighties.” My joke makes him laugh truthfully. It lightens the heaviness in my chest. Such a small thing, but those are the things I miss the most.

“Consider this a donation to the Lilla Finding Her Eden fund, courtesy of Valentine’s Grocery.”

“It’s no wonder your dad is losing his ass. You give everything away, Cash.”

He hands over the plant. “Only to the pretty girls.”

“Your vocabulary is improving,” I tease, placing the basil in the cart. “I much prefer the word girl to ma’am.”

He eyes me. “I hoped if I remembered
that
, you’d remember my directions.”

“To what?”

Cash smiles sourly. “My Eden.”

The park. I cringe at my stupidity. “I haven’t been able to go,” I lie. “But I’ve tried.”

“Can you go tonight? Or do you have to hurry home to hear your husband ridicule that basil plant?”

“I might not always act—entirely as a wife should—but he’s still my husband, Cash. Don’t speak as if you know him, please.”

“I know there’s a girl from Blossom County that comes up to Tangerine to shop. Why’s that, Lilla?”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Last week when your poor attempt to sneak by me failed, I heard you tell Heath your zip code at the checkout. Either you have taken cucumber freshness to new heights or you love talking to me.”

I try to wiggle my way out of this.
Try
being the key word.

“Or the grocery store in Blossom closed down. And Adam likes the store brand ice cream.”

Fail. Cash laughs. “So Adam shits on your dreams and the reward is driving to another county to buy him ice cream? What kind of favors do you run for those whom are kind to you, Lilla?”

“I would need someone to be kind in order to answer that.”

“I invited you to the park on that premise,” he says, before tucking the music back into his ear. I’m not looked at or acknowledged again as he goes back to work, lining up all the herb plants for display.

Chapter Six

Cash is laying on one of the picnic tables, looking up at the orange swipes painting across the fading sky, as I approach. I sit on the bench, watching the sun gradually sink. It’s quiet between us. He has a cigarette lit and smokes slowly. I listen to the soft songs of crickets and the awakening owls, until the light fades deeper behind tall pine trees.

“Why do you come here?”

“Do you honestly need to ask that, Lilla?”

I glance over my shoulder. His face is staring at my back. I feel my hair move. He plays with a section of it. The tips. Slowly winding it around his long finger, then letting go to repeat again and again.

“I know it’s beautiful,” I reply, “but I mean, is there any
other
reason? You said a guy would bring someone out here so he could make out, or cop a feel. Is that why you really come out here? To make little girls swoon over pretty sunsets and then strike when the time is right?”

“Is it working?” he croons. I make a face. “Truth?”

“Truth,” I nod.

“Yes and no.”

“What is the
no
part?”

He keeps toying with my hair, glancing to me every so often as he replies, “I like to come out here and think. Find something that strikes a chord. Something that makes my brain work.”

“What usually makes that happen?”

“I see things others don’t. Like, to some people, that is just a sky,” he motions with the cigarette. “They never think twice about it. It just exists. You ask someone what color is the sky and what do they say?” He looks to me.

“Blue?”

He nods, taking a drag before he looks forward again, blowing out the smoke.