Her Crown Jewel (Hygge Royal Romance Series, Book 1)

Food for Thought

Carter was staring at a jar of Sun-Pat in his hand. Kajsa tore her eyes off his profile - with difficulty - and asked, "Does your father particularly like peanut butter?"

He glanced at her sideways.

"I'm not sure." He put the jar back on the shelf. "I just thought it would be an easy breakfast."

"Not if he's only got one working hand at the moment," Kajsa pointed out softly. "You could get him some frozen pastries. I presume your brother has got a toaster, or a toaster oven."

Carter nodded and moved along the aisle.

"Is that what you normally have for breakfast?" Kajsa asked nonchalantly.

"I just get something with my coffee in a shop," he answered.

Hiding her curiosity towards his habits, she pretended to study what appeared to be a box of mixed dry ingredients for a cake. Admittedly, she did feel fascinated by their surroundings. She didn't normally shop in supermarkets, having everything delivered to her. Sometimes she'd stop for a food shop with Berg, but only at Waitrose. Being in Tesco with Danny Carter felt like visiting an amusement park.

His shopping behaviour was mesmerising as well. He seemed to have a clear list in his head, and he moved around purposefully. She caught up with him. The handle of his basket sat in the crook of his left elbow, and she couldn't but brush her hand on the biceps of his arm. She could feel the hard muscle and warm skin through the thin shirt. He immediately gave her a questioning look. Kajsa wondered whether she'd bother him if she hugged his other upper arm, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, pretty much hanging on him - just like she craved - and of course she didn't. She picked up a bag of Tyrells from a shelf and chuckled.

"These were my favourite when I first came to Britain," she said. "All my uni friends thought I was odd, because I loved the parsnip ones the most."

He took the bag out of her hand by its corner and put it in his basket.

"I don't mean you have to buy them for me!" she exclaimed.

"I've never had them," he said, moving on. "I want to try."

Kajsa gawked at his back. She reminded herself that assuming that there was any sort of romantic meaning behind his words and gestures would be most ridiculous. Surely, him buying a bag of crisps, of all things, wasn't an attempt to know her better. She was so in love with him, and he spoke so little - and expressed even less  - that, at the end, so much was left to her starved for attention, overzealous imagination.

"What do you eat for breakfast?" he asked, when she stopped next to him near a large freezer.

"Omelettes mostly," she said.

"What do you put in them?" he asked. There was already a fifteen egg pack in his basket.

"Anything I can find in my fridge," she answered. "Is there no supermarket in Fleckney? You're buying enough food for a month, considering it's just your Dad."

"My Dad isn't good with new things." Carter's face was distant. "I'm trying to guess what he'd eat. The fridge there is probably packed with cooked meals. My brother-in-law is a brilliant cook. But he's Punjabi."

"Oh, I see." Kajsa kept her tone as neutral as possible.

"My Dad's not–" Carter didn't finish, and she saw his cheekbones flush with faint blush. "He just doesn't fancy spices. And I might need to show him how to use their oven."

Several boxes of frozen quiche and sausage rolls travelled into Carter's basket.

"We will have our breakfast in Miss Rosa's tearoom," he murmured, turned sharply around, and stepped to the freezer by the opposite wall.