“I don’t mind cooking all the time,” she’s quick to inform me. “The way I was raised, it’s normal for the woman in the relationship to take on that role. My mom cooks for my dad all the time.”

“This has nothing to do with taking on roles,” I argue back. “It’s about showing your appreciation for someone and doing something for them they’re always doing for you. Giving some of that good back.”

She shrugs and keeps a soft smile. “I really don’t mind cooking.”

“You’re not hearing me, darlin’,” I inform her.

Her smile fades as she slowly draws in a breath.

Riley stands taller, suddenly looking uneasy. She grips the handles on her cart. “I should go,” she says, backing away to make room so she can get around me.

I know why she’s retreating. And I could let her go. I could let this go, but I don’t.

I asked for this? No. She fucking asked for this.

I bridge the gap and box her in again, then I move to the side of my cart to get closer and take hold of the end of hers, preventing her from moving any further away.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” I question, watching her eyes flicker wider.

“Is . . . this how what’s going to be?” she asks.

“We see each other around and I say something that gets to you the way you don’t want it to get to you, you freak, then you take off acting like you don’t want what you just asked of me two days ago?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wanted this,” I remind her. “Wanted us to be friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“This is what comes with being friends with me, Riley. I joke around. I flirt a little. And when a nickname sticks with a girl, it sticks hard. Now I get you not wanting me to call you that around people who might be suspicious, and honestly, I thought you got me when I didn’t feel the need to assure you that’ll never happen `cause you know I’m not a dick. I guess I was wrong there. So here’s your assurance—that’ll never happen. You asked me not to say anything, and as long as I’m not being asked about it, I won’t. And like I said to you before, I don’t like the decision you made but you made it so I’m gonna respect it, meaning if I’m ever around you and you’re with him, I’ll stick with first names only. But babe, those two scenarios do not apply right now.”

She stares up at me, breathing heavy through her nose and looking conflicted.

“I’m just giving it to you straight,” I add, before she can give me her argument. “You want to be friends? We’ll be friends, but I’m calling you darlin’. Name suits the girl and I like it.”

“I just don’t want this to be weird,” she says, her hands pressing together on the cart handle so one’s now on top of the other. “Or any weirder than it already is, considering . . .”

Her voice trails off.

I shrug, letting go of her cart and crossing my arms over my chest. “Won’t be weird for me,” I tell her.

I need to say this so she knows we can make this work.

Do I want to be friends with Riley? Fuck no.

Am I going to take what she gives me right now?

Yeah. I’ll fucking take it.

No way am I letting her rip this shit away from me now. Hell. I’m invested.

Riley takes a few seconds to think it over, then apparently needing assurance and maybe that final push, she asks me, “Do you call any of your other friends darlin’?”

Jesus.

No. I don’t. But I don’t tell her that.

“Luke, but only when he’s being sweet with me,” I respond through a straight face, hoping to get the opposite reaction out of hers.

And I get it.

Her eyes go round a second before she bursts into laughter, hand to her chest and her head tilting up, showing me the line of her neck as she relaxes back into the girl who was sitting at the bar taking shots of tequila.

I smile watching her.

This is how I want Riley. Giggling underneath a palm tree and asking me for secrets. Open and acting her age. I don’t want her guarded or worried I’m going to take this too far. Or worse, closing up on me all together and running away.

How the fuck is she going to see I’m the better man for her if she freezes me out?

“Okay, well, since I’m sharing the nickname with Luke, I guess it’s fine,” she says, her giggles fading out. “Just promise to keep it harmless, okay? The flirting stuff. I’d really like this to work out. I don’t want to not be friends with you.”

“Not sure I can promise something out of my control.”

She cocks her head.

I cock mine, knowing the truth but only preparing to give her what she wants to hear, and what I need her to hear in order for this to play out.

“I’m harmless,” I lie, the corner of my mouth lifting.

“How harmless?”

“Like a fucking kitten.”

Riley presses her fingertips to her mouth, shielding me from her smile.

I don’t shield mine. We’re good to go.

“Do you have more shopping to do or are you done?” I ask her after glancing around the produce section.

She slides her hand to her cheek, picks up a lock of hair and tucks it behind her ear, answering, “I think I’m done.”

I step back, grab my cart and give her room to pass, waiting until she does this before I reach into the crate she was standing next to, grab a coconut, and keep it concealed behind my back as I follow behind her to a checkout lane.

Another lane opens beside the one Riley is standing in, and since she’s already unloaded, I move to it.

After I hide the coconut under her reusable shopping bags.

I’m finished paying before her since I only have a few items. After collecting my change, I turn around to give Riley a smile and get one back paired with a wave before I head outside to my truck.

I’m expecting something. A call or a text.

And I almost make it out of the parking lot when my phone beeps. Then that smile I’m wearing in anticipation grows to a fucking grin.

Riley: VERY FUNNY.

Later that night, after grilling the steaks, eating one and saving the other for tomorrow, then cleaning up the kitchen and putting everything away, I sprawl out on the couch, nursing my second beer and zoning out on SportsCenter. My phone rings, pulling my attention off the TV.