“Penn Etling? The guy I met at the jobsite today?” I think back to the stocky friend of Dane’s who showed up with Dane’s brother, Matt. “You expect me to believe you have something for that guy?”
“Who said anything about having a thing for him?”
“Uh, you did. With the little giggle you had when you were talking about him.” I cock my head to the side and smirk. “You know, him. Whoever-he-was-not, named Penn.”
With a roll of her eyes that almost looks painful, she turns away from me. “Hi, Shandi,” she says to the girl ringing up her items. “How are you tonight?”
Shandi looks at me and bats her eyelashes. “Tonight is getting better.”
“Please,” Haley says, “don’t flatter him. His ego is already too big for this building.”
“Well, I mean, he is tall, dark, and handsome.” Shandi looks at me and grins before looking back at Haley. “That’s twelve dollars and eighty cents.”
Haley mumbles something incoherent and sticks her card in the machine. It fires back a buzzing sound. She reinserts but it just buzzes in response. “What’s the matter with this thing?”
“They updated our system,” Shandi says. “Which is code for they broke it. It’s been doing this all night.”
Another attempt results in another buzz. Haley removes her card with an irritated flourish. “Well, I have no cash.”
“Here,” I say, sliding my items down the belt. “Ring up mine and I’ll pay for both.”
“That would be a negative, sir,” Haley says.
“Why?”
“That would be two nice things you’ve done for me today, and I don’t want to make this a thing.”
“Make what a thing? Me doing nice things for you? Besides, this is the third thing. Doughnut. Coffee. Groceries.”
She gives me a dirty look that makes me want to grab her and kiss the shit out of her.
“I’d like him to do nice things for me,” Shandi whispers as she slides my items across the scanner. “With Haley’s, that’s nineteen forty.”
I hand her a twenty and watch Haley’s face twist.
“Well, look at that,” I say, walking around her and lifting her bag. “I bought you dinner.” Peeking inside, I raise a brow. “I hope a pint of ice cream and a container of strawberries isn’t dinner.”
“No, it’s not,” she says, taking the bag from me. “I had lasagna for dinner, thank you.”
“With Penn?”
She raises a brow, taunting me. “I didn’t have dinner with him, but I did see him at dinner.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?” she asks, heading toward the doors.
Only because you’re involved.
“Slightly,” I say, following her. “Not as interesting as if you would’ve seen the hippie. That conversation would’ve been riveting.”
She glances at me with mischievous eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t talk to the hippie tonight.”
“And . . .” I make a hurry-up motion with my hand. “Spill. I’m dying over here.”
“I told him not to call again.”
A boy pushing a line of carts cuts in front of us. We stop to give him room to get in the door.
“I’m less riveted than I thought I would be,” I admit. “I really thought that conversation would go somewhere.”
“Well, being that the relationship didn’t go anywhere, I’m not sure why the conversation should. Besides, I’m on a dating hiatus, remember?”
“Yeah, about that. Let’s discuss.”
“Let’s not.”
“Come on,” I goad. “A girl like you intentionally not dating has to have a good story behind it. What is it? You tired of beating men off with a stick?” I grin. “Or other things?”
She gasps like she’s shocked, but it dissolves into a laugh. “You’re impossible.” Her bag swings at her side as she steps into the night air.
I stand next to the gumball machine and watch her walk away. A dose of satisfaction rumbles through my body. Whether it’s from her turning down Joel or knowing she’s turning down every guy who asks, I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that her ass looks amazing in those sweatpants.
She glances at me over her shoulder. I speed-walk to catch up.
The parking lot is dimly lit, more light coming from the full moon overhead than from the flickering halogen lamps above. We stop at my truck.
She peers up at me. Her face is void of any makeup. Little creases that I didn’t see earlier today form at the corners of her eyes, and somehow, it makes her prettier.
“Thanks for picking up my tab,” she says. “My dad always tells me to keep a twenty in my pocket, but I never do.”