Holy crap. Kerrigan swallowed so hard it was audible.
“But then again, maybe I’m wrong. As you were.”
God, he was so right. Even down to the romance books. Was she really that transparent?
Kerrigan didn’t answer. Instead, she finished off the rest of her coffee and gathered her things. “Thanks for the coffee, Trager.”
He nodded. “What’s your name?”
Oh, yeah. She hadn’t told him. Yet, she felt like she’d bared her soul. Unwillingly, but whatever.
She stood and pushed in her chair. “I’m going to the market. Do you want to tag along?”
His eyes flared wide. “Are you asking me to go to the farmer’s market with you?”
Well, when he put it like that, it sounded silly. But she nodded anyway.
“Or we can just say our goodbyes and you can go make up for lost sleep.” She headed for the door. “Your choice.”
She didn’t look back to see if he followed.
Chapter Six
His choice? No, if it was his choice, he’d carry her fireman-style to his beat up truck, drive her out to his cabin, tuck her into his side where she couldn’t get away, and sleep with her until he was rested enough to figure out their next step. But she’d asked him to go with her. No fucking way was he going to deny her. In fact, his wolf lapped it up like warm milk. His mate asked him to do something, and he could comply. There was absolutely zero harm in accompanying her to the market.
Trager was literally bouncing in his steps as he followed her out of the café.
“So, how far is this farmer’s market?”
She threw him a sideways grin. “Just a couple blocks. You up for it?”
“Sure. I’m too tired to sleep anyway.”
“I know what you mean. Like, your body wants rest but your mind won’t quit.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
They walked without talking, the car engines and birds providing the background noise. It was a nice day, breezy, and not hot. The morning was still new enough that dew lined the pavement where the sun hadn’t touched it yet.
The farmer’s market was a world like he’d never seen before. Brightly colored tents and tables lined the sidewalk, made even more colorful because of the goods they contained. Fruits and veggies and flowers galore. Jars full of colorful jams and sauces. Handmade soaps and lotions and jewelry. There were concession stands that boasted the best cinnamon rolls, lemonade, and barbecue in the county.
Trager glanced at his mate. Her eyes were bright, her lips curved in a small smile.
“We’re late,” she said. “But that’s okay. Better late than never.”
True, the area was full of people already.
Starting at one end of the market, the two of them made their way to the other. When they’d reached the end, Trager knew what a kumquat was, how to prune a rosebush, and where to buy milk from grass-fed cows.
A kooky old man had tried to show him how to weave a basket, but luckily, his mate saved him from certain failure. She’d surprised him when she reached over and took his hand. Immediately, he’d dropped the reed, basket forgotten. The old guy chuckled and waved them away, but Trager barely noticed. All he knew was the soft feel of her small palm against his larger, rough one.
When they were clear of the basket weaver, she dropped his hand as if it was no big thing. But it was. He had to work to keep his head from spinning with excitement.
“Where should we have lunch?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“We should eat before we head back. And before I load up with groceries.”
“Wait. You mean we’re going all the way back through there?” he asked, horrified.
She laughed. “Of course, silly. You shop, eat, and then buy. Then you go home. That’s how it works.”
“But what about the basket guy? I can’t go through that again.”
Her smile was so big her eyes crinkled. God, she was amazing. He wanted to make her do that for the rest of their lives. If she gave him a chance, he would.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from him. Big bad basket guy won’t hurt you. I promise.”
They stopped at a barbecue truck, and there was only a small argument when Trager insisted on paying for her pulled-pork salad. Finding an open picnic bench wasn’t easy but they managed to catch a couple that was just leaving.
Trager demolished two brisket sandwiches and started on a double order of fries before he noticed her staring.
He wiped his mouth. “What?”
She shook her head, running her fork though her salad, but not putting any in her mouth.
“Is your food okay.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
He started to reach forward and lift her chin so he could see her eyes, but then remembered how she’d reacted when he touched her in the coffee shop. “Hey. What is it?”