Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(65)

She nudged him with her elbow and smiled. Shaking her head, she headed toward the organic produce.

“I guarantee this will be cheaper than constantly eating out,” he said, then stifled a groan when she reached for broccoli.

“True…”

“And easier on the waistline.”

“Oh yeah, because you desperately need help with that.”

“And lots of meat. I eat meat!” Devon flicked her ponytail, the gesture unlike him. But her playfulness was infectious. On that alone he could believe she was fae. When she let herself go, she sparkled with mirth and joy, something that spread like a virus, even to a guy who’d never had a lot of humor in his life.

She led the way to the next aisle, leaving the cart behind.

“Oh, I get to push the cart, then?” he asked, following.

“Obviously. Make yourself useful.”

“We get paid at the end of the week, by the way,” he said, his gaze snagging on her round, muscular butt. He ripped his eyes away. She’d kick his ass if she caught him looking. “Every other week after that.”

“I meant to talk to you about rent.” She threw a couple of items into the basket before scratching off more of her list. “We need to work out an amount for that and other bills. I don’t know how much I can afford—”

“You’re staying as my guest,” he said, scanning the boxes on the shelves without really seeing them. “You won’t be paying rent.”

“I’m staying as your burden. Rent is the least I can do.”

“Same difference, and no.”

She dropped in some olives, and he nearly made her take them back out again. He wasn’t a fan. Then again, he’d actually liked a giant mushroom made with old wine. He’d probably enjoy anything she put on a plate. She had a real gift for cooking. And fighting. And annoying the hell out of him. She was a woman of many talents.

“I’ve never understood that expression,” she said. “It’s a difference, which by definition means it can’t be the same. If it were the same, it wouldn’t have a difference.”

“Leave the philosophical babble for school, please. Speaking of, how did today go?”

She shrugged as she moved on, stopping in the next aisle to analyze canned soup. “The afternoon class was the one with Andy, so that was actually good. He insisted that I sit with him and his friends. It was nice to be included.”

“The guys seem to like you, not to mention Macy.”

She turned her face up to his, a smile of gratitude boosting her loveliness. “I’ve landed in hell, but I’m in the trenches with good people. I didn’t have many friends growing up. It’s a neat feeling.”

“You’ve lived a pretty lonely life, huh?”

Cans clinked as they fell into the cart. “Yeah. I could never have friends over because of my dad. And when I tested into a preparatory high school, I was the stinky, dirty, poor kid. None of the parents wanted me in their kids’ lives. I had one or two school friends, but it’s hard to have a lasting thing if you don’t see each other after school.”

“And when you were older you had that guy John?”

A dreamy, lovesick look crossed her face. She smiled in a serene sort of way.

A way, Devon realized, no woman had ever smiled for him.

Confusion stole over him, followed by a weird clenching in his gut. He waited for the anger to rush in, covering the softness that was growing in his middle. Strangely, nothing came.

“He was my light in the darkness, yes,” she said, the memory softening her face into something absolutely exquisite. Her ethereal quality was practically a beacon. He couldn’t understand why people didn’t stop and stare at her in rapture.

Then again, now that he was noticing, everyone they passed smiled at her. They might not be magical, but they were affected all the same. He wondered if that was an element of being a fae, or if it was just her.

“We spent every moment we could together from sixteen to nineteen,” she answered. “He was a year younger, even though we were in the same grade, so fifteen to eighteen for him. We were together most of high school.”

“When did you lose your virginity?”

“Not real nosey, are you?” Charity muttered. “We’d been together a year. I was seventeen.”

“And he’s been your only one?”

“Yes, and now we can change the subject.”

Devon smirked. “Aren’t you going to ask me when I lost my virginity?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t care.”

He flicked her ponytail again. “I thought women were supposed to be curious?”

“This one minds her own business because she doesn’t want a certain beautiful blonde to set her bed on fire while she’s sleeping in it.”

Devon laughed, picking brownie mix off the shelf and tossing it into the cart. Charity halted with a frown. She took the box out of the cart and handed it back.

“I like brownies,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back so she couldn’t take the mix.

She slapped it to his chest. “Yes, I know, but I don’t make them from the box. I have the ingredients for brownies on the list.”

“You do? Homemade?”