Читать книгу Bachelorette Blues - Robyn Amos - Страница 10

Shayna closed Max’s refrigerator, shaking her head. This was going to be more of a challenge than she’d realized.

“Okay, Max, we’ll have to go to the store. You don’t even have the basics. Let me see your recipe so we can figure out exactly what we need.”

His brows rose innocently. “Recipe?”

“Yes. Don’t you have a…You don’t, do you?”

He showed her his straight white teeth, as if flashing that sexy smile would make up for everything. “Well, no.”

She grinned. Somehow she just couldn’t argue with that smile. “Lucky for you, I grabbed one of my cookbooks on the way out. It’s in the car.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You think of everything. I appreciate you helping me out like this.”

“No problem.” She thought of everything? Yeah, right. She used to think of everything, but today was a different story. She wasn’t even sure if the cookbook she’d brought had a chocolate mousse cake recipe. There hadn’t been time to check. “Let me go get it. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait. I’ll grab my keys and we can leave for the store.”

She looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t made a list yet.”

Max shrugged. “Why make a list when we already have the cookbook?”

“You want to lug a cookbook around the grocery store with us?”

“We can manage.”

Shayna shook her head in confusion. “Max, it only takes five minutes to write out a list.”

“It only takes five minutes to drive to the grocery store.” He winked at her, leading her into the hallway. “See, I just showed you how to save yourself five extra minutes.”

Shayna rolled her eyes, realizing that she’d been beaten at her own game. They retrieved the cookbook from her car, then got into Max’s Pathfinder.

While she flipped through the cookbook, Max turned on the radio. She was just about to ask him whether he preferred Ultimate Chocolate Mousse Cake or the Chocolate Mocha Mousse Cake, when the chorus to an old Smokey Robinson song came up.

Max sang loud, off-key and with feeling.

Shayna stared at him. He gave her a sympathetic look, but continued to sing with all his heart. When the chorus came up again, he tapped her knee, inviting her to join in. She looked at him in horror.

Max winked, singing even louder.

He hit the high note flat, but it didn’t matter. Steering, with one arm, through the light Sunday traffic, he leaned back, fully enjoying the music.

At the end of the song, he turned down the radio and sighed. “Damn, I wish I could sing.”

A giggle slipped past Shayna’s lips. “You’re not the only one.” They looked at each other and set off in a fit of laughter.

He began to sing along with the next song, and Shayna had to smile. Despite a strong baritone voice, Max couldn’t hit a note with a sledgehammer. But he didn’t let that stop him…and that was actually pretty endearing.

Most men she knew would never allow her to see them at such a disadvantage, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to laugh at themselves about it. They always had to maintain a veneer of control—the way she did.

The unwanted picture of Phillip Browning, Jr. singing James Brown’s “I Feel Good” popped into Shayna’s mind, and she almost laughed out loud. Only, in this rendition, he would probably change the word feel to look, then take credit for writing an original song.

“We’re here.” Max shifted the truck into park, and as they walked toward the grocery store, he gestured at the slip of paper in her hand. “What’s that?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “It’s a list. I made it in the car.”

He chuckled.

“It won’t be as effective because I don’t know how the aisles are laid out in this store. You can save more time if you make your list according to the aisles.”

Still chuckling at her words, Max picked out a shopping cart. Shayna couldn’t help feeling as though he were laughing at her.

She followed him through the automatic doors. “I know you don’t have much reverence for schedules, but they can really make a difference in your life.”

Pushing the cart toward the first aisle, Max smiled at her politely. “I believe you. What’s the first item on the list?”

“You know…” Shayna said, frowning thoughtfully. “You should let me work up a plan for you. Something simple. Consider it a professional courtesy.”

“Uh, Shayna—”

Determined to make him take her seriously, she pressed on. “Really, Max, just think—”

His gaze was fixed beyond her. “Shayna, watch out!”

She turned in time to see a shopping cart careening toward her. Inside was a toddler clapping his hands and shouting, “Whee!” An older boy chased after him.

Trapped between a centerpiece display of eggplant and the orange stand, Shayna had only one choice. She pressed herself against the rows of oranges until she was practically sitting on them. The boys whooshed by.

Her relief was short-lived.

One.

By one.

Oranges.

Began dropping.

To the floor.

Shayna spread her arms, trying to block the falling fruit, but her weight only added to their momentum. Oranges shot out in every direction, rolling down the aisle and under displays.

“Max! Help me!”

Max, who had been standing off to the side, openmouthed, wheeled the empty shopping cart over to her. “Okay, now slowly step away,” he instructed.

She gently eased sideways and the oranges that had been stacked at her back fell into the cart. “What a mess.”

Oranges were everywhere. A young woman in a long skirt was hopscotching over the rolling fruit with a carton of milk and a bag of bagels tucked under her arms. At the end of the aisle, the older of the two boys from the shopping cart derby was trying to juggle oranges, while the toddler clapped with glee.

Max darted around the aisle, gathering oranges while Shayna tried restacking the ones that had fallen into the cart. After she’d stacked three oranges, the pile rolled back off. No matter how she tried, the fruit wouldn’t stay put.

“What’s going on here?” a stock boy asked Shayna just as Max returned with his arms full of oranges.

The mother of the two grocery circus performers showed up to pull her boys away, leaving Shayna and Max to take the blame.

Shayna tried to stack another orange on the stand. “There was a little accident” The orange rolled off onto the stock boy’s foot…followed by three more.

“Aw, man.” The teenager reached down to pick up the oranges. “When I applied for this job, they promised me stuff like this only happened on television.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shayna filled her arms with fruit, trying to help the boy refill the display. He turned suddenly and she spilled her armload all over him.

The boy cursed under his breath, shooing her away. “I’ll take care of it. Just go.”

Shayna and Max hastily rounded the corner into the next aisle. Feeling her cheeks sting, she motioned to the oranges—at least two dozen—that still layered the bottom of their cart.

Max waved her off, obviously struggling to keep a straight face. “Leave ‘em. You can never have too much vitamin C.”

“Okay, we’ve gotten the eggs, butter and cream. All we need now is chocolate.” Max steered Shayna toward the candy aisle. She’d refused to handle the eggs because she swore, with her luck, she’d break them all.

“Good.” Shayna moaned, eyeing the oranges in their cart, now stored safely in plastic bags. “Then we can leave before I strike again.”

Max shook his head warily. She did seem to be having a rough time of it lately. He’d thought what happened at the mixer last night was a once-in-alifetime catastrophe, but since then he’d come to the conclusion that Shayna was just straight-up clumsy.

Until recently she’d always been cool and collected, and it warmed him to see this side of her. He found her clumsiness endearing. But the old Shayna was still alive and well. In between dodging shopping carts and skating on spilled detergent, she’d managed to talk him into buying a pocket planner and changing his brand of toothpaste.

Max picked up the large bittersweet chocolate bar the recipe called for. When he returned to the cart, he found Shayna studying a row of chocolate almond candy bars with open lust.

“Shayna?”

“Hmm?” She faced him with a dreamy, glassyeyed look.

“If you want a candy bar, just get one.”

She bit her lip in obvious distress. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Chocolate is my biggest weakness. I only let myself indulge on special occasions.”

Max walked over, picked a candy bar and held it out to her. “Life is too short to be so hard on yourself. If you want something, you have to take it.” He waved the candy bar. “Take it.”

She turned away. “No. No. No. I try to maintain a well-balanced diet. It would show a terrible lack of discipline for me to give in.”

“Shayna, you have a gorgeous figure. One little candy bar isn’t going to—”

She turned back, clearly embarrassed. “No, that’s not it. I want it too much, and that’s why I need to restrain myself. I control the chocolate.…The chocolate doesn’t control me.”

After a final longing look at the candy bar, she turned and began pushing their cart up the aisle.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Max said, following behind her.

After filling the cart with all the necessary ingredients, they headed for the checkout line.

“This way,” Max said, steering her to the left.

“But, Max, that’s the longest line. This one over here is shorter.”

He shook his head. “Maybe, but the quality of service isn’t the same. Trust me, this lane will be worth the wait.”

Shayna eyed the line, making no effort to hide her frustration. “How could any lane be worth a wait this long?”

Max realized the lane was at least twice as long as the others, and Shayna seemed baffled by the fact that no one else seemed to mind. Couples chattered softly among themselves, while others flipped through magazines from the display racks.

As they neared the front, Shayna released another incredulous sigh. She jabbed her elbow into his side. “Max, this woman is the worst,” she said, referring to the checkout clerk, a heavyset woman with a short salt-and-pepper Afro. “She’s doing more socializing than grocery packing.”

He just grinned blithely. “Nah, May Belle’s the best. She’s the main reason I shop here.”

When they reached the head of the line, Shayna looked ready to jump out of her skin. She hastily unloaded their cart, clearly anxious for their shopping excursion to end.

“Well, hi, sugar. How are you doing this afternoon?” May Belle greeted Max with more warmth than some of his relatives at family reunions.

“I’m just fine, May Belle. How are you feeling?”

“Well, now, you know it’s been a trial.” May Belle started with her aching corns and worked her way up to the chronic pain in her back.

“Hang in there, May Belle.”

“Oh, Lord, I do try, but you know how they like to work a poor woman to death up in this place.” The sparkle in her eyes said she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Enough about me. Let’s see what you got here.”

Then May Belle’s eyes fell on Shayna. “My goodness, boy, why didn’t you tell me you finally found yourself a girlfriend? And she’s beautiful, too. Don’t you two make a handsome couple.”

“This is Shayna Gunther, May Belle, and we’re just friends. Right now.”

Shayna opened and closed her mouth, the color in her cheeks deepening. Max winked at Shayna, enjoying her flustered reaction.

“Nonsense.” May Belle leaned toward Shayna. “Honey, let me tell you something. This boy is the best catch around. And they come from all over to pass through my lane, so May Belle knows. You married?”

“No, ma’am,” Shayna squeaked.

“Then, sweetheart, look no farther. Look at him. As handsome as the day is long, sweeter than Mama’s homemade pudding, and he can coo—”

“May Belle, please. You’re embarrassing me.” Max was actually enjoying the attention, but May Belle was about to blow his cover.

“And modest, too. Don’t worry, sugar. I’ve said my piece.” She winked at Shayna, returning her attention to the groceries. “My, my, my, you got a lot of oranges.”

“No, no, Shayna. That’s not how you fold the egg mixture. That’s more of a chopping motion.” Max rushed to her side to take over.

She let him take the bowl from her. “I know, but the spatula hits right where I burned myself, and that makes it difficult to…”

“It’s okay, I understand. Why don’t you grate the…Actually, why don’t you sit over there and have a break?”

Shayna slunk over to a chair. “I’m not usually like this, Max. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I came over here to help you, and I’m just making a mess of everything.”

Max looked over his shoulder at her as he gently folded the eggs into the chocolate like an old pro. “You’re doing fine. We all have days like this.”

She watched his effortless motions. “You sure seem to be catching on quick.”

“You’re a good teacher.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. So far I’ve taught you how to burn yourself preheating an oven, ruin batter by dropping hundreds of microscopic eggshells into it, and now you’re afraid to let me grate the chocolate because you’re thinking I’ll scrape off what’s left of my fingernails.”

Shayna watched glumly as Max carried out the remaining steps of the recipe. Once again he was gliding through life as smooth as silk while she bumped over polyester naps. How could this be?

He could stroll through the store without being distracted by bags of chocolate-chip cookies or almond candy bars. She had to keep both eyes on a list or she’d be overwhelmed by temptation.

How nice it must be to buy things just because you want them. To leave at a moment’s notice and arrive without warning. Max, for all his casual disorder and spontaneous chaos, seemed so…free.

Shayna experienced a fleeting moment of envy.

No, she scolded herself. These last few days had proven that when she left one thread unbound, the entire fabric of her life began to unravel.

She sat in Max’s kitchen a frazzled wreck because she’d allowed herself to get off schedule—damn that alarm clock. Veering off her routine left her flustered and disoriented. That must explain her clumsiness. High school all over again.

This is what it was like to be out of control—like a derailed train, plowing into oblivion.