Risky Business: A Reverse Harem Romance (The Code Book 4) by Bethany Jadin

Author:Bethany Jadin [Jadin, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jadin Press
Published: 2018-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

14

Emma

“Attention, shoppers…” A voice comes over the store’s intercom, snapping me out of my daze, but I don’t catch the muffled words.

I take a deep breath and blink a few more times before looking down at my cart. What on earth have I done? I came here looking for fudge ripple ice cream, ready to drown myself in an evening of terrible horror movies, a gallon of sugary ice cream, plus the pint of vodka I found in my dad’s study earlier today.

But somehow, I’ve filled my shopping cart with the ingredients for meatloaf. And chicken cacciatore. And fettucine alfredo with stuffed shrimp. As I stare into the cart, I realize I’ve filled it with all of the guys’ favorite meals.

What the fuck am I doing?

“Ma’am?”

I startle and spin to find a lanky teenager approaching with a hint of concern. I check behind me to make sure I’m the one being addressed. “Yes?”

“The store is closing in five minutes, ma’am.”

I furl my brow. “What?”

“We close at midnight.” He’s beside me now and gestures to the shelves. “Can I help you find anything?”

What the hell is he talking about? I came in here a few minutes after nine. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check the time and clasp my hand to my mouth in shock. “Oh my God. I am so sorry. I hadn’t realized what time it was.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “I just wanted to let you know so you could grab any last items you need before we turn off the registers up front.”

“Oh. I, uh…” I stare at the cart, wishing I could shrink down so small I’d be invisible. “Actually, I… I don’t even need all this stuff. I don’t know why I picked it out. I’ll go put it back.”

The young man places a hand on the edge of my cart. “It’s fine, ma’am. We can take care of it for you. Just pick out what you want and take it up front. You can leave the rest with me.”

I wish he’d stop calling me ma’am. My throat closes up, but I still manage to get out a rushed thank you as I grab the gallon tub of ice cream. It’s not even frozen anymore, it’s a tub of flavored cream. But I’m not about to return it to the freezer section or hand it back to the guy, so I head to the checkout with it, my eyes plastered on the wide tile patterns at my feet as I walk so no one sees the tears welling.

I scan the item at the self-serve isle, and an older woman at the adjacent machine is eyeing me, her eyes moving between my puffy face and the big tub of ice cream. She offers me a kind but tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been there, honey. I hope things get better.”

I try to clear my throat to respond, but it comes out as a coughing bark, my throat growing itchy. She’s already walking away, so I feed cash into the machine, not waiting for my change.

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