Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(17)

I shrug. “He said they were bestsellers. Gourmet. So...it must be delish, right?”

Flint laughs again, his blue eyes twinkling. I’m mesmerized by how handsome he is again. He’d been so upset earlier, mad enough to scare poor Louie.

He’d been worried for me. I can forgive that. And I guess I can see why I fell in love with him at some point.

He’s a man of strong convictions, hardheaded and righteous. There are worse things to be, even if it leaves him rough around the edges.

He folds up one of the shopping bags. I remember I’d been about to peek inside the other one.

“So what’d you make the run for? Anything good?”

Unfolding the top, I see it’s full of cat food. Several varieties. Enough cans to make the Tinman blush.

“What the...is this all for Savanny?” I ask before he can answer.

“Savanny?” His brows furrow.

I nod at the cat sitting on the floor. “I remembered her name. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, Savanny. That’s his name,” Flint answers, staring at the gangly beast as it twines through my legs first, and then his.

“His?” I shoot him a questioning look.

“Yup. That cat’s got a set of balls bigger than I’ve seen in some locker rooms.”

Oh. Holy crap, he’s right.

One glance tells me how wrong I’ve been this whole time.

“Hey, at least I figured it out before I took him shopping for heels or something.” Smiling, I start unloading the bag of dry cat food plus the haul of cans.

Flint grins. I wonder if he really finds me funny. “You remember anything else, or what?”

“No. It just popped into my head when he was with me on the bed this morning. I tried to remember more but...you know how it goes. Just his name. Little bites, I guess.” An image flashes in my mind, blending the dried food with the canned stuff, and Savanny gobbling it up happily. “Where’s his bowl? I’ll mix him up some lunch.”

Flint opens a cupboard and passes me a bowl. Shrugging, he says, “I just ran them through the dishwasher.” He takes out a second bowl and fills it with water.

I open a can, dump the meat mush in the bowl, and then tear open the bag and pour some of the hard food over the top. “Spoon?”

“Second drawer,” Flint says. “Want some eggs?” He holds up a box. “Or a malasada?”

My stomach growls with excitement.

“Definitely a malasada.” My mouth waters. I love those things. “Custard?” I ask hopefully.

“Damn straight, plenty of variety. Still warm, right off the truck. Those guys in town don’t fuck around with baked goods.”

“Yum!” I set the cat food on the floor, climb up on a stool, and open the pink pastry box he sets down. I’m so ready for this I don’t even laugh at how crude he talks about...well, everything.

The heavenly smell hits me right in the feelies. Deep fried and sugar-coated, these fat Hawaiian doughnut balls are sweet perfection. Unable to hold out longer, I grab one and take a nice big bite.

Aw, yeah.

“Juice or coffee?” Flint asks.

I shake my head and keep on chewing. Like I’d even dream of letting anything else compete with the doughy goodness filling my mouth.

“Water?” he asks. “Easy, babe, don’t choke.”

I nod.

Even though I know they’re a gazillion calories, I scarf down two malasadas before drinking the glass of iced water he slides over. “Wow, that was scrumptious! Can’t remember the last time I had one.” I laugh at myself. “I know, what else is new?”

“Give it time,” he says quietly. “It’ll all come back. Cash says there’s no cure like patience.”

“I hope so, but right now, I think I’m going to take a shower and get dressed.”

“Need any help?”

Oh, God. Did he just say...

I do a double take. My cheeks light up. He didn’t mean that the way my body wants to take it, I’m sure. Right?

He’s a hard man to read. He bends down to pick up Savanny’s empty dishes, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I’ll be fine.” I climb off the stool and head for the bedroom, then the bathroom. This awkward shame flicks through my blood.

It’s not like I can blame him if he wants to wait. I wouldn’t exactly want to jump a girl either if she couldn’t remember our own wedding, much less our last time in bed.

A minute later, there’s a knock on the door. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest again with more excitement than the donut caused.

Whew. Am I reading this all wrong?

“Brought you some clean clothes,” he says matter-of-factly.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door. “Oh, I knew I forgot something. Thanks!”

“Figured it was easier for me to get them than for you to go searching,” he says, handing me a stack of neatly folded clothes.

For a second, our eyes meet. There’s a hot, electric, stingy vibration in my skin right before we jerk away.

Just awesome. So much for making things less awkward.

“Um, thanks, Flint,” I mumble again, shutting the door a little too fast.

God.

Pulling myself back together, I decide on a bath rather than a shower, hoping a nice soak will help ease the lingering soreness in my muscles.