The Bride (The Bride #1)(15)

We moved on to produce.

“Vegetables suck,” Jake said. I had to cut him a little slack because he was a cattle rancher and meat was his passion. “I know vegetarians exist, but don’t try to actually convince me this shit is good.”

“It’s good for you,” I said. “That’s the point. You shove enough broccoli and asparagus down and you don’t feel guilty about french fries.”

Jake looked super serious when he said, “I never feel guilty about french fries. I can handle lettuce, spinach, and broccoli. Bring home Brussels sprouts and you’re on your own.”

So noted. We didn’t have to worry about the meat aisle, because we obviously butchered and ate our own. However, I did point out the need for chicken. Because I was a girl and couldn’t live on red meat, and because chicken parmesan was delicious.

“Why? We can just kill one of the chickens no longer laying eggs.”

“No,” I said. “I like the chickens.”

Then I got the rancher frown. My dad had mastered this look by the time I was three.

Ellie, you don’t get attached to the product. Cows are meat, chickens lay eggs until they become meat, and the horses are your employees. You want a pet, we’ll get a dog.

“I know, I know. I’m saying every once in a while packaged chicken instead of having to slaughter the dinner I fed that day is easier, okay?”

“Fine.”

That’s when things got a little dicey. We cleared shampoo and conditioner no problem. I liked Fruictise Rainforest, and yes I needed both shampoo and conditioner. He liked Dove shampoo because it was the cheapest.

I needed body wash, any brand would do.

He needed Irish Spring soap.

He showed me the razors he liked. I showed him the deodorant I had to have. Fresh Scent.

Then we got to feminine products.

“Awkwaaaard,” I sang.

“Get a grip. You’re married now.”

I laughed. I think that was actually a joke. Jake didn’t really do jokes very often.

“Always pads, Tampax tampons.” I showed him the right color bag and box.

“Yep.”

We walked past the condom section. Did not say a word. Just kept walking right past it.

Joey at the register bagged us up and we made it back to the truck without anyone stopping us or staring at us or in general being weirded out by us.

On a scale of one to ten, I called the shopping trip a resounding nine.

Jake thought my whole scale stuff was stupid.



*

Jake

March



“Tell me what I’m watching again?”

It had become a thing, I realized. Ellie and I would either cook or clean up. We went back and forth based on whoever felt like doing what. Sometimes that came down to a coin flip, then we changed into our comfort clothes (she called them jammies—I refused to reference any article of clothing I had as jammies) and watched TV.

I was a rancher, I was up at dawn so I was in bed by nine at the latest, but sometimes it helped to drift off to something mindless.

She had her phone in her hand and was feverishly texting someone. “Scandal,” she said without look up.

“Catch me up. What’s the plot?”

She lifted her head and gasped. Actually gasped. “I can’t catch you up on Scandal. Do you know how many things have happened? It would take months, it would take essays.”

Essays? On a TV show?

“I can’t get a general grasp?”

She sighed and set her phone aside. “Well, okay, that’s Olivia Pope and she has this badass law firm, sort of? Anyway she was in love with the President, and they had an affair, but he of course was married and then she fell in love with Jake, I think. Or she’s still been in love with the President the whole time, it’s hard to know. But Jake is a serious badass and no one is sure if he really loves her or if he is just loyal to her father.”

“Who is her father?”

She looked at me like I had two heads. “Hello, he’s the bad guy. There, that guy. He runs like this super spy agency, which does really bad things. Oh, and he killed the President’s son.”

I tried to think about what that meant. “So Olivia was having an affair with the President, but then her father killed his son.”

“Yes. But I think at the end of the show she’s ultimately going to end up with the President and not Jake. You know. True love.”

Her phone started buzzing again and she went back to texting.

I didn’t know much about true love. My mother left my father when I was five. Still, if my true love’s father killed my son, I’m pretty sure I would have a problem with it.

“Who are you texting? Chrissy?” I wasn’t sure why I asked. I guess because it wasn’t like her to be so distracted. She wasn’t one of those girls pinned to her phone all the time. She had too much work to do around the farm for that kind of stuff.

I wasn’t certain if she was even on Facebook. I sure as hell wasn’t.

“Riley.”

The boy. Now it made sense. “I want to meet him at some point.”

“Yes, Jake,” she answered, but I could tell she was humoring me.

Still, I figured I would leave her to her… conversation. All that typing. I don’t get why he didn’t man up and call her.