7. The Writer In Her Element
CHAPTER 7
THE WRITER IN HER ELEMENT
JOANIE
“ O kay, you see how the woman working at the deli counter keeps looking at the guy behind the bakery counter?”
Colin nods, but I can’t tell if he’s just humoring me. He takes a moment to observe the two, who are both helping customers. I hold my snack-filled shopping basket while we stand off to the side of the aisle. I wish I hadn’t left my notebook at home, because I could write a whole story based on the sparks flying between the deli and the bakery.
“They’re either together or really want to be.” The way Deli looks at Bakery, I’d bet money they’ve at least hooked up.
“You got that from just looking at them?” Colin looks between the two of them, his eyebrows knitted together.
“Can’t you see it? He’s wanted her since he first saw her. Probably gives her extra cupcakes and cookies when he can.”
“Is that a euphemism?” The corner of his mouth kicks up, and I’d pinch him for making fun of me but I’m a little smilemitized. I imagine it’s not quite as potent as being dickmitized by him, but still effective. And now I’m thinking non-friend things about Colin’s dick.
I set my basket down and go digging through my bag. I might not have a notebook with me, but I do have a CVS receipt. That’ll do for a detailed outline, maybe a first chapter. “Turn around.”
Colin stares at me for a good long while, huffs out a breath, and gives me his back. I pull out one of the two books I have in my bag to use as a hard surface, then start jotting notes down on the receipt. I have to keep dipping my head around Colin’s broad back to catch glimpses of the two lovers.
I write words like smolder and ache, salami and rising dough. I avoid words like yeast and tuna . If there’s nothing going on between these two, at least I can write it into existence. I pause, trying to think of their meet-cute, and end up with employee orientation .
“How’s it going back there?” Colin’s shoulders start bouncing with suppressed laughter.
“Hold still, I’m getting to their first kiss.” I glance around his back again and spot another employee behind the deli counter. Is he flirting with Deli Lady? Is this going to be a why-choose story? I’ve never written one of those.
My brain sparks with a gazillion ideas, all while Colin stands there patiently. He probably thought we were making a quick snack run before watching the Giants game at his place. I love baseball, but it’s only the gravy on the Gonzo and Colin mashed potatoes.
And now the poor guy is my battlefield writing desk. I pause my scribbling, and my forehead hits his back. What am I doing? Normal people don’t stop in the middle of a grocery store and start making up stories about the unsuspecting people around them. My cheeks flame with the oncoming embarrassment.
“Why’d you stop?” Colin’s voice interrupts my flustered thoughts. “Trying to come up with a grand gesture?”
I blink at his back. As much as I enjoy looking at Colin’s face, at this moment I’m grateful to be close to him but not caught in his too-perceptive eyes.
“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea. You’re not a piece of furniture, and a grocery store is a ridiculous place to plot a book.”
He starts to turn around, but I put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him facing the other way.
“I don’t know who told you having a big personality that takes up space is a bad thing, but I’d like to have a quick conversation with them,” he says in a low, intense voice.
Trying to blink away the sudden sting in my eyes and nose, I force out a laugh that sounds horribly fake.
“It’s okay.” It’s really not. “We’ve all got our baggage. Mine is a suitcase filled with parents who constantly told me to hush, and a little cosmetic case of their disapproval of my career choices.”
“No offense to your family, but that’s some bullshit. You’re Joanie fucking Ferrell, writer of beloved romance books with a personality that shines so bright people can’t help but gravitate to you. I’m sorry they can’t appreciate you the way you are.”
Oh my heart. It’s trying to beat a path out of my chest. The lump in my throat takes several tries to swallow down. I quickly lean my forehead against his back and nod.
“Thank you,” I whisper, still grateful he can’t see me.
“Anytime, Shark. Now, if you’re almost finished writing your next great love story, let’s get home so we don’t miss the first inning.”
“Wouldn’t want that. Maybe next time we make a snack run we can bring Gonzo. If you put her in a harness or baby carrier, I bet grocery shopping would be that much more fun.” I’d give up caffeine for a week to see Colin carrying her around in a Baby Bjorn.
“I find that I’m already having a great time.” Now I wish he was facing me so I could see his expression.
I want to bury my smile in the soft flannel of his back. I make a couple more notes on the receipt and slip everything back in my bag.
“Thanks. You make an excellent writing surface.” I pat his shoulder and tell myself to stop touching him. Just one more pat .
He chuckles and turns around. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Any time you want to use me, I’m here for it.”
Reader, my mind goes to fifteen different filthy places. And he sees it because his eyebrows wing up and his cheeks turn pink. A blush has never been so adorable on a burly man. Heaven help me and my runaway imagination.
Colin clears his throat, but nothing is going to save me from visions number eight and nine. They both involve the contents of my nightstand and a whole lot of pre-shenanigasm warm-ups.
“Come one, Gonzo’s probably getting impatient. She was extra clingy this morning.” He nudges me with his elbow, snapping me out of my dirty little daydream.
“Yes, please.”
If I had known grocery shopping could be this much fun, I would’ve brought Colin with me a long time ago.