I stood in front of the apples and tried to remember which kind the recipe called for. I wondered how much it would really matter in the end. Who knew there could be so many different types of apples? Were they really all that different from each other? My hand reached out to grab a shiny green apple, but it hesitated.
“Excuse me.” His voice was raspy near my ear. Close, but not quite close enough to be creepy.
“I’m sorry,” I pulled my hand back. “I want to make a pie, but I can’t remember what kind of apples the recipe called for. I guess I’m overwhelmed by all the choices.” Shut up! You sound like a damned idiot! I looked up and saw that the man was smirking. His grey-blue eyes twinkled good naturedly.
“Pie, huh. Do you make pie often?”
I shook my head and just stared at him like some sort of fucking dope. He was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen. He was tall, six feet at least, and his shirt matched the color of his eyes.
“Do you mind?” he reached his hand out and brushed against my arm to get to the apples.
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” I moved out of his way and stood in front of the Red Delicious apples. I picked one up and examined it for bruises. Tried to act like I knew what I was doing.
“You don’t want that kind for a pie. Too mushy and not near enough flavor.” He was holding one of those green apples. He tossed it in the air and caught it. “This is the kind you want.” He brought it to his mouth, and the apple made a snapping sound as his teeth broke the skin. He chewed a couple of times, then swallowed. “Juicy. Sour. Sweet.” He wiped a little juice off his his lower lip and sucked ever so lightly on his finger.. “Delicious.”
My throat went dry and I imagined myself pulling that apple from his hand and taking a bite from the same spot he bit. It would be like kissing without the contact. A jittery giggle escaped my throat and I forced a cough to try and get myself under control. What was wrong with me? Why was I acting like a teenager?
“Thank you.”
He stepped closer to me and smiled that amused smile again. “You should always listen to your instincts. You were right.”
Listen to my instincts? My instincts wanted to push him against the apple display and kiss him, taste the apple he had just eaten and decide for myself if that was the kind I wanted. The last thing in the world I needed to do was listen to my instincts. Snap out of it!
“Did you get what you needed?” I nodded at the empty produce bag in his hand.
“Not yet.” His eyes caught mine and held them prisoner for several long seconds before I was able to tear my gaze away.
“Oh. Okay. You just asked me to move so you could get to them, but if you don’t need these..” I reached out and grabbed an apple at random. My knees were wobbly, and I dropped it on the floor when I tried to shove it into my bag. “Shit.” I bent over to pick it up, but he beat me to it. Picked it up and put it back on the pile.
“Avoid that one. It’s bruised.” he took two green apples put them into his bag, twisted it closed and walked away. “Good luck with your pie.” he called over his shoulder just before he turned the corner.
What was that? I asked myself.
