“I’m sorry, Owen,” I apologize first since I’m the one who jumped all over him about being an ass to that old man. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. My head has been all over the place, and I’m stressed out.”
“I understand,” his deep voice fills the cab of the truck. “I know I need to work on my temper. I’m trying, but nothing works. I didn’t mean to blame you for the explosion.”
“It’s okay.” I know he means it. Owen never says anything he doesn’t mean, and he was right. I should have found the bombs inside the wall, but I didn’t. That would be another thing to add on to the list of failures in my life. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go enjoy the market and maybe bring Quinn some girly shit, since she is surrounded by testosterone.”
“I don’t know,” he says, clicking the door open. “You’re so thoughtful, I’m sure she gets plenty of girliness from you.”
“Fuck you,” I laugh and get out of the car. Our doors shut one after the other, and we stand side by side as we watch the locals enjoy their weekly market of fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, and homemade gifts, like candles and jewelry.
We tower over most of the crowd, and it’s surprisingly quiet for people here. The smell of fresh popcorn and cotton candy drifts through the air, and Owen and I groan in unison.
“Cotton candy,” he says
“Popcorn,” I reply, licking my lips.
The stands are next to each other, and I buy a freshly popped bag of buttery, salty popcorn and Owen grabs a pink cotton candy. It’s the size of his head. Watching his sausage-sized fingers pluck the candy from the stick is amusing, but I’m not going to give him shit for it. We all have our vices.
We walk down the market first to see which vendors catch our eye, and on the way back through, we stop at the ones we decided on.
“Homemade cheese.” Owen points to one of the last tents. “I fucking love cheese.” He shoulders his way through the crowd, causing shouts of disproval from a few people who are staring at him with daggers in their eyes.
I slither my way through the crowd. “Sorry about him.” I wave to another person who is complaining about Owen. “Sorry. So sorry. Have a great day.” I finally stand next to Owen, feeling people burning a hole in my back since I’m standing next to their new enemy.
“I’d like the goat cheese, all the flavors. Sebastian, they have a blueberry spread to die for. You have to try it.”
“No, I’m—” He shoves it in my mouth before I can get my entire protest out, but as I chew, I realized it is good. Really fucking good. “Can we get five of those?” I ask through a full mouth, trying not to spray crackers everywhere.
“Swiss, mild white cheddar, sharp cheddar, actually, can we have one of everything?” Owen asks, pulling out his wallet.
“That’s a lot of cheese,” the woman behind the table says with shocked green eyes. “What will you do with all of it?”
“Eat it,” Owen said in a ‘duh’ manner.
She shrugs and takes his money, then gives us the change.
The sight and sounds of the market make me feel more relaxed. Maybe it is the fresh air and the all the scents; maybe I haven’t gotten used to the freedom of being outside instead of being bars.
The sun makes a quick appearance through the clouds, raining light across the tents before vanishing again. Trinidad is such a beautiful place, small town, kind locals (most of them), and good food. The views are amazing too. There is always so much to do here. I never want to live anywhere else.
Next, we stop at a fruit vendor and nearly buy everything since there are so many people living in the Cliff House. Peaches, plums, oranges, and grapes. Oh, the fucking grapes are so sweet and juicy, I had to buy three bags of them. California has the best vineyards, and I would fight anyone who argued with me.
After getting our assortment of fruits, we stop at vegetables, and nearly buy them out too. It’s a good thing there are multiple vendors for the same products.
Last, but not least, are the meats. Fresh steak, chicken, pork, every cut a man can dream of.
We buy steaks and chicken. Quinn liked chicken and for some reason, beef has been making her sick, so we take the necessary precautions. Our arms are full after that, and we decided to make another trip down the street after putting the bags in the car.
“Round two?” Owen asks as he shuts the trunk door.
“You know it.” I slap his shoulder. The wind takes that moment to blow across my face, and scent is one I am intimately familiar and stops me in my tracks. I close my eyes and inhale, breathing in as much as I can.
Gabriella.
Wildflowers and rain.
My eyes snap open, and I glance around, standing on the tip of my toes to look over the crowd to see if I can spot her.
“What is it?” Owen asks.