A moment for you
Cheryl is just picking up dessert at the grocery store…but when Kurt appears, it looks like love is on the menu
Our eyes lock as a frisson of tension passes between us”
“Help…i need help,” the man standing beside me at the grocery store mutters, gazing at the packaged salads as though they’re hieroglyphics.
I peek over, my pulse thudding as I take in his handsome profile. With that razor-sharp jawline and the pair of well-fitting jeans he’s wearing, it’s all I can do not to sigh out loud. Wow. This certainly doesn’t seem like a guy who needs any help.
I straighten my sweater over my black leggings, square my body to the lettuce, and pinch my cheeks a bit before turning toward him. “What exactly are we dealing with here? Are you having a salad crisis?”
He shifts his focus to me, and I offer my most disarming smile.
It takes him a beat to follow my lead, but then he stares me dead in the eyes and my legs go to Jell-o. “I know to stay away from kale. But what the heck is frisée?”
My smile widens. “It’s a fancy name for curly endive. Bold and crunchy without the spectacular dirt aftertaste kale offers.”
His shoulders shake in amusement, his short laugh inviting, like the twinkle in his blue eyes. “I don’t want fancy. I have to take a salad to my aunt and uncle’s house for dinner. It needs to look like I made it, but also be something I can pretend to eat.”
“I see your dilemma,” I say, picking out a bag of mixed greens. “This should do. Plus it comes with croutons and vinaigrette.”
“Vinaigrette?” His face blanches. “They’d never believe I actually whipped up a vinaigrette.”
“Got it.” I exchange the bag for one with ranch dressing. “This one’s perfect.” He takes the package from me, his fingers grazing mine with an electric jolt, and glances at the sparse contents of my basket. “Two rolls of cookie dough… bad day or boy trouble?” My heart thuds. “What?” “I have sisters,” he smiles. “I’m well aware of what ‘ breakand-bake’ means.”
“Ha! You do have sisters!” He crosses his arms, his handsome gaze assessing. “So which one is it?” “None of the above. I’m new in town. My neighbors welcomed me by shoveling
snow from my driveway and asking me to dinner.” I shake my head remembering the invitation from the Brennans, the older couple living in the house next door. “They’re either super-nice, or they’re trying to set me up with someone. What I know for sure is that I’m in charge of the dessert.”
He frowns. “And you’re going with those? Grab a pre-made Bundt cake. Throw some chocolate sauce and crushed peppermints on top. It’ll look homemade.”
His teasing gaze causes my belly to flipflop. “Impressive. Exactly how many sisters do you have, mister…”
“Five,” he says, reaching out a large strong hand to shake mine. “And that’s Assistant Sheriff Swanson.”
“Assistant Sheriff Swanson? That’s a lot of syllables.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “I don’t know why I blurted—”
“It’s a hazardous job for that very reason.” He winks and leans in. “Three perps got away last year because no one could spit out my orders in time to make an arrest.”
I throw my head back and laugh as our eyes lock. A frisson of tension passes between us.
“My friends call me Kurt. And you are?” “Cheryl.”
His eyes narrow. “Hang on a sec.” He pulls out his phone and runs his thumb across the screen. “Cheryl Smith?”
“Yes? I mean…yes, that’s me.” I cock my head. “How do you know that?”
A grin breaks across his beautiful face. He turns his phone to me, an email displayed from Carol Brennan with the subject line, Dinner with Your Future Wife. “My aunt and uncle, aka your neighbors, are notorious matchmakers. It seems we’re being set up tonight, Cheryl Smith.”
My face flushes with heat when suddenly, he reaches for my basket and with a gentle touch, takes it from my hands. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m rescuing you…but not as Assistant Sheriff.” He throws his salad next to my cookie dough. “My aunt is the most wellintentioned, abysmal cook in the county.”
His voice softens. “What do you say we drop off the salad and cookies with my aunt and uncle, stay for a bit and then ditch them for dinner at Sal’s Steak House?”
“That sounds great.” I beam up at him. “But fair warning.”
He raises his eyebrows in question. “I’m a vegetarian.” I put my hand in his. “And I love kale.”