rt down every aisle I’m headed toward, and it’s starting to really annoy me. For someone who doesn’t want to be stalked, she sure is doing a poor job of trying to avoid it.
I speed-race my cart to the end of the aisle and loop around to choose a different one from high-ponytail lady—but would you look at that? She did the same thing. Now we’re headed straight for each other, and I realize this person is a little crazy. She WANTS to be stalked.
Where is Lucy? I’ve been cruising this place for twenty minutes with an empty cart, and I don’t know how much longer I can do this without getting arrested.
I approach Ponytail with a soft face and my most non-creepy-I’m-not-a-murderer demeanor, hoping to just quickly sail right by her. I can’t, though, because at the last second, she jerks and knocks her cart into mine bumper-car style. It’s so unexpected and jarring that my knee-jerk reaction is to throw my hands out in front of me and apologize for a mistake I DIDN’T MAKE.
“I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that happened.” But I do know. I want to point an accusing finger at the woman and yell She did it! because I’m a little afraid this is going to be a second mark against me in this grocery store—lurking and then causing a scene. One more strike and I’ll be kicked out. Then, I’ll be forced to man up and go see Lucy at her house instead of a grocery store where we “accidentally” bump into each other. Yeah, it’s a wimpy move, making her see me in public places like this, but I don’t trust myself with her alone. And if I want to keep everything above board until Drew gets home, this is my only option.
Anyway, Ponytail is doing something strange now.
“Hi,” she purrs while running a delicate finger along the front of my cart. I strangle a laugh in my throat because never have I ever had a woman come on to me via metal grocery cart before. “I know you’ve been trying to get up the courage to talk to me for a few aisles now”—oh please no—“so I thought I’d take matters into my own hands. I’m Kate.”
As I watch Ponytail Kate subtly lick her lips, it becomes clear I’m not dealing with a normal woman. She should be alerting an attendant about me, not be willing to give my cart a lap dance. But let me be clear, even if I wasn’t crazy about Lucy and reforming my ways, I’d still be getting the heck away from this woman as fast as possible. Call me what you want, but there’s something about a woman who finds a potential stalker sexy a little unnerving.
“Uh, sorry. I think you misinterpreted. I’m just—” My statement is cut off when something—or someone—rams into my legs from behind.
“DADDY!”
Huh?
I look down to find two chubby little arms wrapped tightly around my legs, followed by the sexiest hands I’ve ever seen slowly sliding around my abs and up to my chest. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WOMEN IN THIS GROCERY STORE?!
“Hi, babe,” says Lucy—oh thank God, it’s Lucy—peeking her twinkling eyes around my shoulder to grin up at me. “Making friends?” she asks, squeezing in tighter before wedging herself up under my arm to face Ponytail, one arm wrapped possessively around my waist with my arm draped over her. She’s doing that thing where she plays with my fingers dangling over her shoulder, and I have the strongest urge to tell her this is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in a grocery store.
“You’re a—” Ponytail looks between me and Lucy and then down at Levi. “Dad? Oh gosh—I didn’t realize. I thought you were coming on to me.” Did she really, though?
I bend down to pick Levi up and put him on my shoulders. He laughs as I stand to my full height and wrap my arm around Lucy’s shoulder again. “Nope. I’ve just been looking for my family.”
Lucy’s playful smile dims into something meaningful as she looks up at me, trying to see if I buried a hidden meaning inside my statement, Hallmark style.
I did.
“Okay, well…” She looks mildly annoyed. Like she’s offended I have a family. “I guess I’ll go then?”
It’s alarming that she phrased it as a question.
“Buh-bye,” Lucy says with a catty squinty smile.
Ponytail Kate pushes by us, and Lucy whips around to me with wide eyes. “Be honest—how often does this happen to you?”
“Children calling me Daddy and bear-hugging my leg? This is a first. How’d you get him to call me that?”
“I bribed him with the promise of a sucker on the way out. I know—I’m completely mom goals. But no, I meant how often do women try to pick you up in the bread aisle?”
I shrug like a player. “Not my fault I’m a snack,” I say, making her laugh and jab me in the ribs. “But seriously, this is the first time. Did you see her loony eyes? I’m scared to find out what she would have done to me if I let her take me home.” I shiver playfully.
Lucy’s shoulders relax. “Good. For a minute there I was worried you would be upset I interrupted.” She tries to pass her statement off as a funny ha-ha moment by chuckling, but it has an undertone of insecurity to it that I can hear from a mile away.
“Luce, I’m here for you—and eggs, but mainly you.” I grin and bend down, holding tight to Levi’s legs so he doesn’t topple off while I kiss Lucy’s cheek. Just her cheek; this is totally acceptable behavior. I watch her face turn my favorite shade of rosy, and she presses her lips together, hiding her smile.
“Okay, well then, let’s go get you those eggs.”
And then, without thinking, we abandon my empty cart, and I walk beside Lucy, Levi on my shoulders and her pushing a cart. She grabs a loaf of bread and tosses it inside the basket, and I do too. Levi leans to grab a bag of donuts from the top shelf, but I do a quick lunge. He laughs, and now it’s a game as I’m lunging up and down the aisle, quads burning and cheeks aching from too much smiling. I look like a cheese ball, one of those poor idiots you frown and shake your head at for losing all his game when he chooses to lower himself to physical comedy for the sake of his kid.
Here’s what I never saw before, though: Those poor idiots don’t give a crap about their game because they don’t need it. If their women are looking at them like Lucy is looking at me, they’re not having any trouble in that department.
We carry on through the grocery store, checking items off her paper list and seeing if they correspond with the mound of coupons clutched in Lucy’s rainbow-nail-polished hand, and I honestly can’t believe I’m enjoying this. I am, though. I’ve never felt more content, and I’m wondering if everyone out there getting ready to go bar crawling tonight knows how lit the grocery store can be.