Slammed (Slammed #1)(7)

"I love them too,” I say unsteadily.

"Have you ever seen them play live?" Will asks.

I’m not sure why, but as we talk, I tell him the entire story about my dad. He listens intently, interrupting only to instruct me when and where to turn. I tell him all about our passion for music. I tell him about how my father died suddenly and extremely unexpectedly of a heart attack. I tell him about my eighteenth birthday and the concert we never made it to. I don't know why I keep talking, but I can't seem to shut myself up. I never divulge information so freely, especially to people I barely know. Especially to guys I barely know. I'm still talking when I realize we’ve come to a stop in a grocery store parking lot.

"Wow," I say as I take in the time on the clock. "Is that the quickest way to the store? That drive took twenty minutes.”

He winks at me as he opens his door. "No, actually it's not."

That's definitely flirting. And I definitely have butterflies.

The snow flurries start to mix with sleet as we're making our way through the parking lot. “Run,” he says. He takes my hand in his and pulls me faster toward the entrance.

We’re out of breath and laughing when we make it inside the store, shaking the wetness from our clothes. I take my jacket off and shake it out when his hand brushes against my face, wiping a strand of wet hair away that's stuck to my cheek. His hand is cold but the moment his fingers graze my skin, I forget about the frigid temperatures when my face grows warm. His smile fades as we both stare at each other. I’m still trying to become accustomed to the reactions I have around him. The slightest touch and simplest gestures have such an illicit effect on my senses.

I clear my throat and break our stare as I grab an available cart next to us and hand him the grocery list.

“Does it always snow in September?” I ask in an attempt to appear unfazed by his touch.

He lays his jacket across the side of the shopping cart. “No, it won’t last more than a few days, maybe a week. Most of the time the snow doesn’t start until late October," he says. "You’re lucky.”

“Lucky?"

"Yeah. It’s a pretty rare cold front. You got here right in time."

"Huh. I assumed most of y’all would hate the snow. Doesn’t it snow here most of the year?”

“Y’all?” he laughs.

“What?”

“Nothing," he says with a smile on his face. "I’ve just never heard anyone say ‘y’all’ in real life before. It’s cute. So southern belle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry," I laugh. "From now on I’ll do like you Yankees and waste my breath by saying 'all you guys.’”

He laughs and nudges my shoulder. “Don’t. I like your accent, it’s perfect.”

I can’t believe I’ve actually turned into a girl who swoons over a guy. I detest it so much; I start to inspect his features more intently, trying to find a flaw. I can’t. Everything about him so far is perfect.

We get most of the items on our list and head to the checkout. He refuses to let me put anything on the conveyor belt, so I just stand back and watch as he unloads the items from the buggy. The last item he places on the line is a box of bandages. I never even saw him grab them.

When we pull out of the grocery store, Will tells me to turn in the opposite direction in which we came. We drive maybe two whole blocks when he instructs me to turn left-onto our street. The drive that took us twenty minutes on the way there takes us less than a minute on the way back.

"Nice," I laugh as I pull in my driveway. I realize what he's done and that the flirtation on his end is blatantly obvious.

I park the car, remove the keys from the ignition and grab my purse. Will has already rounded to the back of the jeep so I press the trunk lever for him. I get out and walk to where he is, expecting him to have an armload of groceries. Instead, he's just standing there holding the trunk up, watching me.

With my best southern belle impression, I place my hand across my chest and say, "Why! I never would have been able to find the store without your help. Thank you so much for your hospitality kind sir."

I sort of expect him to laugh, but he just stands there, staring at me.

"What?" I ask nervously.

He takes a step toward me and softly cups my chin with his free hand. I'm shocked by my own reaction; the fact that I allow it. He studies my face for a few seconds as my heart races within my chest. I think he's about to kiss me.

I attempt to calm my breathing as I stare up at him. He steps in even closer and removes his hand from my chin and places it on the back of my neck, leaning my head in toward him. His lips press gently against my forehead, lingering a few seconds before he releases his hand and steps back.

"You're so cute," he says as he reaches in the trunk and grabs four sacks with one hefty swoop. He walks toward the house and sets them at the entryway outside the door.

I'm frozen, attempting to absorb the last fifteen seconds of my life. Where did that come from? Why did I just stand there and let him do that? Despite my objections I realize, almost pathetically, that I have just experienced the most passionate kiss I've ever received from a guy, and it was on the freaking forehead!

***

As Will is reaching into the trunk for another handful of groceries, Kel and Caulder run out of the house, followed by my mother.