I shook my head, not answering her. Instead, as Hall & Oates began one of their catchy songs, I twirled her, enjoying her burst of surprised laughter. I began to move, dancing with her. That was something else I liked about her that astonished me. I had always loved to dance—I wasn’t particularly good at it or polished. I just moved my feet and hands to the rhythm and stomped around, enjoying the movement and music, but it was something I only ever did alone. I liked dancing with her—she moved freely, and we somehow fit. We fit together in many ways—and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that fact.
I certainly wasn’t prepared for it.
Yet, as I twirled her again, then yanked her back to my chest and kissed her in the sunshine, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
* * *
We pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, and I was pleased to see it didn’t look overly busy. Ava had been correct, which was good since it meant we could be in and out quickly.
She pulled out her phone. “Okay, got your list?”
I scratched my head. “List?”
She shook her head. “You didn’t make a list?”
“No, I just pick up whatever I decide I might want.”
She dropped her head to her chest. “God help me,” she muttered.
I chuckled at her frustration. As I was discovering, Ava was highly organized in everything. After I’d grabbed a quick shower, I walked into the living area to discover she had taken all my piles of paper and organized them. They were now in color-coded files. I wasn’t sure if I was more impressed at her swiftness or her brazenness. Both made me smile.
She glanced up, looking guilty. “I couldn’t take it anymore, and I couldn’t help myself. Now you’ll know where everything is, and you won’t have to search. Look,” she said. “Permits, ideas and drawings, receipts—everything in its own file.”
“And where did the folders come from?” I asked. I knew I had nothing like those in the house.
“In my SUV. I always carry extra file folders. I’ll leave a few blank ones so you can make up new folders as needed.” She paused, pursing her lips. “I can’t leave you my label maker, but I could get you one.”
That made me want to laugh. As if I would bother with a label maker.
“I’ll use a pencil,” I assured her. “Not as fancy, but it works.” I doubted I would ever add to anything, although I had to admit her files looked good. At least the top of the little table was clear now. She picked up the completed files and slid them onto one of the shelves in the living room, the bright colors easily found. She gazed at me nervously.
“Are you mad?”
I met her eyes and slid my arm around her waist. “No, Little Dragon. I’m surprised you were able to rein yourself in for so long.” I had seen her eyes return to the piles on the table many times, and now I understood why. It must have been driving her crazy.
She grinned. “It was difficult.”
I kissed the end of her nose. “Try to refrain from reorganizing the store displays when we get there, all right? Maybe leave the label maker here.”
“Okay.”
I had only meant to tease, but I had a feeling she was serious. The thought amused me to no end—Ava reorganizing an entire store to make it more efficient. Chances were, she’d be right.
I undid my seat belt, still chuckling. “I’m a simple guy, Ava. Now that I have a grill, all I need is some meat to cook on it, some salad stuff, and a few staples.”
Inside, I took a handbasket, and Ava grabbed a cart. She eyed the handbasket. “Your groceries won’t get cooties sharing the cart with mine.”
I really hadn’t planned on getting much, but to make her happy, I put the basket in the bottom of her cart and took it from her. “I’ll follow you since you know the place and I’m not getting much.”
She nodded. “I have my list organized by aisle. It’s faster.”
“Of course it is.” I hid my smile.
I had to admit, she was right. She knew exactly what she wanted, where to get it, and she didn’t waste time. My basket contained a lot of meat, some odds and ends that caught my eye, snacks, and a large box of dog biscuits for Cash. A couple of bottles of wine because I knew Ava liked red wine. For some insane reason, I had picked up a little bunch of flowers, thinking they’d look nice on the table, and I knew Ava would like them as well. Luckily, she didn’t notice and pulled me along quickly before I changed my mind. In Ava’s part of the cart, I could see the meals she was planning. Spaghetti. A whole chicken. Short ribs. The ingredients to go along with them. Cereal for breakfast. Cream for her coffee, which reminded me I needed some as well. Our two worlds summed up in a grocery cart. One organized and methodically planned, one chaotic and barely thought-out.