CHAPTER 83

I inhaled slowly when he opened the trunk and placed the shopping bags in. “I’m not lying.”

“Mhmm.” He pushed the cart to the security guy, who wheeled it over to the cart shelter. Then he walked to me, slowly, and reached around my body to the car door. With his fingers curled around the door handle, he leaned his face towards mine. “Then why,” he whispered, “don’t you look at me when you tell me?”

I averted my eyes to the side, saying nothing. He was standing so close to me, and he smelled good. Like, really good. Like coffee and cinnamon—warm and comforting. Nothing like the harsh cologne Martin used to wear, and definitely nothing like the whiskey and cigarette smoke he occasionally smelled like.

“Huh?” he prompted, his voice still a gentle breezing whisper. “That’s what I thought.”

“Leave it alone,” I replied, finally bringing my eyes to meet his. They were burning into me, thrilling and scary, and it was all I could do to ignore the shiver that cascaded its way down my spine. “P