When the last can rolled and stopped in front of my cart, I felt every eye in the place on me. Wincing, cheeks burning hot, I started trying to pick up the cans. Which was another thing that was surprisingly hard to do one-handed.
“You need some help?”
The man’s voice was deep and filled with amusement. Even before I looked up I was preparing myself for someone hot, but when my eyes met his deep green eyes, I wasn’t ready for what I saw. Since becoming single, I’d found that most of the men I saw out and about were either way too young for me, happily married, or looked like they were my ex. But this man? He was handsome, especially with his auburn hair that had grey peppered at his temples, and a slight scruff of beard with the same grey peppered in it. He was probably my age, but he didn’t have the same signs of flab that I had at my arms and belly, the flab I couldn’t seem to get rid of. Instead, he had big arms and the kind of hard chest and trim waist that made my mouth water.
“You must be married.”
The second the words left my lips, I winced and looked down at the cans, continuing to put them flat on their bottom, in a sad pile.
I heard him laugh, and he had the sexiest laugh I’d ever heard. “Actually, no.”
And then he knelt down beside me and started to add to my stack. Our hands brushed once, and I knew I had to be imagining the electricity that seemed to course between us.
“I’m a widower,” he said. “Nearly ten years now.”
Oh, damn. But I couldn’t help but wish Rick had died. Was that too mean of me?
Meh, I didn’t care even if it was. He was a dick.
“I’m Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Arthur. I’d shake your hand but you only seem to have one to use at the moment.”
I laughed and looked at him again. “Oh, I know you. You went to Mystic Hollow High, right?”
He grinned and picked up four cans in one hand with ease.
Big hands, big heart. Yeah. Heart. That was the expression.
“I did. Graduated in, ah.” He grinned guiltily. “I’d rather not say.”
I snorted. “I know how that feels. I’m Emma. Emma Pierce. I used to be Emma Foxx, before I got married.”
“You’re married?” he asked, and I might’ve imagined the shock and disappointment in his voice.
Why was I so stupid? Man, I sucked at being single.
“Sort of?”
Daniel grabbed the last few cans and I tried to rise as gracefully as possible. Not one foot at a time, grasping the side of the buggy like I wanted to. When I was a teenager, I could stand up from sitting cross-legged on the floor without uncrossing my legs. I could just stand. Just like that.
But oh, no. Not now. “Sort of, as in I’m in the middle of a divorce. To a toad.”
I swallowed a panicked laugh cause I was literally married to a toad. I thought.
This time, I glanced at him through my lashes but couldn't read anything from his expression. I’d definitely imagined him being disappointed that I was married. This wasn’t one of those perfect moments in movies where I meet the stud I was always supposed to be with. This was real life, and he was just being nice to a woman with an arm in a sling. That was it.
“Let me push that for you,” Daniel offered.
I nodded, and we started through the store together. It took a surprising amount of effort not to look at him, so I focused on everything I knew about him from long ago. Old memories from high school came pouring back like no time at all had passed. And there was Daniel in the heart of so many memories. Cute Daniel, who had no idea I even existed.
Now that I recognized him, it made sense that I thought he was hot. I’d had a massive unrequited crush on him in high school. “Thank you. That’s so kind.” He picked an aisle and I grabbed all sorts of things, knowing my brother’s tics. I wouldn’t be able to use any of the food he had in the house. “So, what else have you been up to since high school?” I asked as I grabbed a package of flour.
“Well, I was the sheriff of Mystic Hollow until my wife died, then I retired. I help with the youth programs in town now.”
“That’s so nice. I mean, not the part about your wife dying, but the other stuff,” I said, wanting to smack myself upside the head for putting my foot in my mouth again, even though I genuinely meant it. Early retirement, though. We were hardly at a retiring age, and if his wife had died a decade before, he would’ve been in his thirties.
“I still work part time.” He looked at the cereal, then selected a sugary brand and put it in the child-basket at the front of the cart. “Help out where I can.”
There was a story there, but he was helping me push my buggy so I didn’t pry. “How about you?” he asked.
“Um, I’m getting a divorce, so I came back home for the moment to escape the stress of it. That’s about all, at the moment. I helped run my husband’s company and turn it into a success, so I may look for something in management? I’m not sure.”
His eyes almost seemed to twinkle under the fluorescent lights. “Well, I have no
