The Billionaire's Christmas Bride (Big Bad Billionaires #3) - L. Steele Page 0,41

the aisle to where she stands in front of a display of frozen treats.

"How much longer will you take?" I growl

She squeaks, then shoots me a sideways glance. "You startled me," she mutters, then turns her attention back to the display. I follow her gaze to the Sticky Toffee Pudding she’s salivating over. I reach for it, but she grabs my arm. "What are you doing?" she scolds.

"You want this?"

"Of course, not."

"Why do you deny yourself?"

"I’m going to be baking enough, as it is. If I also buy these goodies, I’ll turn into a Christmas butter ball," she mutters.

"Don’t you mean buttercup ball?" I chuckle.

She shoots me a sideways glance. "Knew I could count on you," she snarls, then turns and pushes her loaded shopping cart forward.

"Hold on."

She doesn’t stop. No matter. I catch up with her, drop the tin of chocolate onto the heap of shopping. "You sure you have enough there?"

She frowns. "You mind your own business."

"But you are my business."

"Whatever." She speeds up, turns the corner and crashes her cart into a man. Some of the items fall out.

"Oh, I’m sorry." She bends at the same time that the man she’d run into says, "Excuse me." The stranger grabs a can of chocolate—motherfucker, it’s the same can I’d placed there earlier. I scowl. He snatches up a few of the other items, then straightens at the same time as her. Their heads bump. Something explodes inside of my chest. My vision narrows. I stalk forward.

He places the items in her shopping cart. "I’m Hunter," he holds out his hand.

"I’m Amelie." She raises her arm, and I plant myself between them.

"And she was just leaving." I thrust my hand in his, squeeze the motherfucker’s palm.

The expression on his face doesn’t change; he doesn’t flinch. I scowl at him.

He glances from me to Amelie. "Uh, a pleasure to meet you," he says.

"Can’t say the same," I grunt.

Amelie huffs, "Don’t mind him." She grumbles, "He was born with a lemon in his mouth."

I frown, "What does that mean?"

"It means that you have a terrible attitude and you are the most impolite person I know."

"Good," I mutter. "You done here?"

Hunter chuckles, "How long you guys been together?"

"We’re not—" Amelie starts.

"Long enough." I thrust out my chin at Hunter. "What kind of a bloody name is that anyway?"

His expression hardens, then he barks out a laugh. "You're refreshingly candid."

"That’s not all I’ll be if you don’t get out of my face," I shoot back.

He holds up his hands, "Not intruding on your patch, buddy." He glances around me, "Bye Amelie."

"Bye," she choruses back.

The man squeezes past me; my shoulder bumps his. He shoots me a narrowed gaze over his shoulder.

I glare back at him.

He frowns.

I glower.

His shoulders tense, then he jerks his chin.

Good, he got the message.

He pivots, walks away.

"What the hell was that?" Amelie huffs.

"None of your bloody business."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Why were you talking to him?" I snap.

She gapes, "What do you mean? He helped me pick up the groceries. What did you expect me to do? Ignore him?"

"Yes."

She shakes her head, "You’ve lost it." She pushes the cart forward, muttering, "Of all the crazy, asinine things you could do, this one takes the cake."

I stare after her. The hell is wrong with me? So maybe I did overreact, but hell, when he’d bumped into her, all I could think was, mine. She’s mine… For the next few days, at least.

She struggles with the shopping cart, and I stalk forward, grab at it. "Gimme that."

"Fine." She raises her hands. "For being such a crazy-ass jealous man—"

"I’m not jealous."

She rolls her eyes, then snorts, "No, I forget that’s your CRGPF."

I frown. "Excuse me?"

"Your chronic resting grumpy pants face," she clarifies.

Only when I’m around you. She does something to me. Yeah, she confuses me… I blow out a breath. Jesus, now I am going all googly-eyed over some chic who’d dropped in on my life and turned it upside down. You can’t let her get to you; no way.

I jerk my chin.

She frowns.

I glare at her.

She pales, then juts out her chin and walks forward and out of the shop. I join the queue. When it’s my turn, the woman at the checkout counter opens her mouth.

"Don’t—" I growl.

"But, Sir—"

Bloody fuck, is the entire population of this village out to get me? I pull out my wallet, then separate a large stack of bills…and prop them on the counter. "Keep the change."

Her gaze widens, then she proceeds to check out the