The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,19
several languages, notifying customers of freshly cubed Australian lamb, free trials of their home delivery service, and a sale on small appliances.
Even at this hour, the store had a steady flow of foot traffic with an eclectic crowd. Hagan spied Sawyer and Camden in the video game aisle with their items piled by their feet. Neither noticed him approach as they played the Nintendo Switch on display.
Camden pitched forward as though trying to assist the game controller with his physical willpower, then noticed Hagan. “Hey, man, you want in?”
Mindless gaming would probably be a good idea, but a restless urge needled his gut. “Nah.”
“Suit yourself.” Sawyer smashed the controller buttons.
Hagan watched for another minute and then left. Nothing caught his eye. Aimlessly, he turned into the next aisle stepping around a salesclerk stocking shelves, next to a scarfed woman studying the back of a box.
The display sign gave him pause. Bluetooth for Bouncing Sports. He smiled, and if the lady and the salesclerk hadn’t been in the way, Hagan would’ve taken a picture for his sister. Roxana enjoyed the English translations that were unfamiliar to her, like ‘sweet water’ for soda and ‘light’ instead of diet.
Hagan pulled out his phone and waited for the woman to move, typing a message to his sister. What the hell are Bouncing Sports?
Neither the clerk nor the woman got out of his way. His index finger tapped along the side of his phone. Hagan selected a box of earbuds from the shelf and mused over the possibilities listed in the product description. He skipped the Arabic and read the accompanying English summary.
For exercise workout regimens such as running or outdoor training. Resists sweat and rain. Perfect to achieve athletic goals!
Unwilling to wait any longer to photograph the display sign, he snapped a picture of the box, sent it to Roxana, and returned the earbuds to the shelf as the woman turned to her cart. Their eyes clashed, and the hair on his arms stood on end. Hell, every part of his body jumped to attention. Pinpricks of lust curled down his spine. A thousand questions came to mind. “Twice in one day…”
She dropped the box into her cart and gripped its metal frame. “Did you follow me?”
His head cocked. “Are you serious?” Apparently, she was. He studied the scarf draped over her head and her clothes from earlier, and it struck him again that she wanted to blend in and hide. A woman like that would have to do a lot more to dull her shine than simply cover up.
He soaked in the appeal of her pink lips. Their irresistible fullness made him weak in the knees. Her mouth seemed soft and sweet, like he could brush his lips against hers for hours.
But she wasn’t drinking him in as well, and without the threat of a staircase showdown, he could see that she didn’t miss anything. To hell with what she saw in him, what was she looking for? Her eyes were the darkest shade of espresso, not quite black and not quite brown. And just like the shot, he saw her as strong and robust. Bitter without the bite. Almost too hot to handle, but without the cliché of knowing it.
His chest tightened, and he wanted to know what made this lady tick. “We should exchange names.”
For the second time in one day, he extended his hand.
She jerked the cart back.
“Or not.” His hand dropped, and he waited for her to leave. She didn’t, almost skittish as she inched to where she had been. “You’re kind of jumpy to be in this line of work, aren’t you?”
Her lips pinched. Their natural color paled. “What do you think I do? Wait. Never mind.” She lifted her hand to stop his guesses. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
Hagan laughed. “I think you do.”
She rolled her eyes but flushed. “I think you’re wrong.”
“Nah.” He gave a semi-apologetic lift of his shoulders, unable to hide his grin. “I don’t think so.”
She fidgeted, as though she didn’t know what to do next. Stay and talk? Run for her life?
He hazarded a step closer. The anticipation of what could be hit him like a bolt of lightning. “I guess we all have our secrets.”
Her chin lifted defiantly. “You don’t have secrets.”
“You don’t say?”
“Not the kind that matter,” she challenged.
He crossed his arms but let his lips curl. “That’s a little judgmental.”
Stress tightened at the corners of her eyes. “You’re too alive to have secrets like mine.”
“Trust me,