Ah. More familiarity.

I went up to the balls of my feet, reached forward, and tapped his still-straight nose. “I don’t know about Trevor, but the rest of us knew you back when you wore tighty-whities, so….”

Freaking Zac laughed again, and it made something warm pop up in my stomach. “I still do.”

I snorted. “Please tell me they still have little Spiderman on them.”

Zac shook his head. “They’re big Spiderman now.”

This idiot.

We both laughed, loud, and he was still cracking up as he added, “Goddamn, I missed you, Peewee. You and that mouth.”

I missed you, Peewee. Warmth and not a small amount of sadness filled my chest. I couldn’t help but tell him the truth. “I know. I missed you too. I hope we don’t go another ten years without seeing each other.”

Maybe it wasn’t the perfect thing to say, but most of Zac’s smile didn’t wither away afterward, at least. Apparently, he was trying too. “No way that’s happenin’,” he told me, looking straight into my eyes as he did so. “So, you got plans today?”

“Big ones.” I met his gaze dead on. “I have to go grocery shopping. You?”

“I could do some grocery shopping.”

“You buy your own groceries?”

It was his turn to blink. “What? You think I pay somebody to do what I can do myself?”

“Well, yeah. It’s like five dollars. I’m just picky with my produce.” I watched him closer than before and whispered, “Are you having financial trouble? Because a few years ago, I got in really bad credit card debt, and it took a while, but I got out of it, and—why are you smiling like that?”

Yeah, he was smiling and not even bothering trying to hide it. “Smiling like what?”

“Like an idiot,” I told him.

Zac freaking hooted, and it made me laugh. “I’ve got plenty. Promise.”

Well then. “So? Are you serious? Do you really want to go?” The idea of him going grocery shopping period pretty much blew my mind. The idea of him wanting to go with me grocery shopping blew it into another state.

Not that I minded or cared.

That big, quick hand came out of nowhere to boop me on the nose before I could dodge out of the way. “Count me in, darlin’. A boy’s gotta eat too.”

If someone had told me two weeks ago that I was going to be heading into a grocery store next to Zac, who had my reusable bags thrown over one of his shoulders as he tried to be inconspicuous with a burnt orange and white baseball cap pressed low over his head, I would have thought they were full of shit.

Mostly because I still couldn’t believe this cheapskate wasn’t willing to pay a couple bucks for someone else to buy his groceries.

I had made sure to bring that up no less than three more times on the drive there—a drive that consisted of me behind the wheel because apparently someone didn’t “want to drive” and because my car had “a bigger trunk.” I mean, I didn’t care, but if I had to choose between my Honda Accord or his luxury vehicle, I would have chosen his. Mostly because I’d never been in anything more expensive than Boogie’s Audi.

And if he wanted to risk his life getting kidnapped by hanging around the rest of us plebs, I sure hoped his manager had access to his bank account for ransom money, because I wasn’t going to risk my life saving him from a hostage situation. He’d been alive longer than me. I had a lot left to live for.

I told him that too, which made him laugh. “Nah, nobody ever recognizes me,” he’d claimed.

“So, do you have a list or are you just picking up random stuff along the way?” I asked him later on as I pulled out a full-sized cart at the entrance to the store. Zac had teased me about my shitty parking job the entire walk inside.

He was busy grabbing a half-sized one with two baskets, a small one at the top and a bigger one at the bottom. He winked at me. “No list. It’ll all come to me.”

“Uh-huh.” Because that always worked out. I was playing with fire coming without eating something beforehand.

Hearing the sarcasm in my voice, that nearly thin mouth drawled up into a smirk. “I got this, kiddo. Whatcha gettin’?”

I pushed my cart toward the produce first like I always did. “I’ve got a pretty big list.” Turning over my shoulder, I held up my phone to show him my notes app and watched his eyes widen.

He pushed his cart forward to walk beside me. “The last person I knew who used that many groceries was a two-hundred-and-eighty-pound defensive end.”

“I don’t eat out much, and someone is always dropping by and eating at my house.”

He looked at me. “Who?”

I shrugged as I started grabbing celery, falling right into that comfortable trap of I-know-you-and-I-feel-comfortable-with-you-so-I’m-going-to-joke-with-you. He didn’t need to know I was talking about Deepa. “People.”

It took a second for Zac to snicker, but he did as he ditched his cart and came over, picking a bag of baby carrots I hoped he had a plan for so that they wouldn’t go bad.

I waited until he stood beside me, picking up avocados and testing how hard they were, to gently ask, “So… can I ask you about…” I turned to make sure no one was standing close. There wasn’t. “How things went in San Diego, or would you rather not talk about it?”

I could feel the surprise coming off him. It only lasted about a second, but it was there, and then it was gone. “You can ask, darlin’. Nobody else ever checks.” He lowered his voice. “It went all right. Another guy was there too, but I didn’t get a good feelin’ about it. I’m not expectin’ a thing.”

Those motherfuckers. I hoped they lost every game this season. I peeked at his face, but he caught me, and I forced a smile. “That stinks. San Diego is expensive to live in anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I didn’t really like the way he ticked his head to the side. “I still got some time.”

Not much, I’m sure we both knew, but neither one of us admitted it. The season was going to start in no time.

I wasn’t surprised he went straight into changing the subject back in my direction. “You have a good day at work?”

“I only thought about quitting twice. That’s about as good as it gets for me now,” I admitted, setting four avocados into the cotton bags I used for my produce.

He leaned over and plucked the bag from my hand, taking out two and setting them bare into his cart. “What’s goin’ on with your boss again?”

I stared at him, leaned over just like he had, grabbed one back, and said, “Let me show you how to pick them.”

So I showed him how to pick them, pointing at the nipple and telling him all about my paper bag trick to get them to ripen. Once he’d gotten three of his own that were just as good as the ones I’d found, I answered his question about my bosses.

“They’re new, three of them. They bought the gym I work at, but two of them are basically silent partners. The other one is just an asshole, but he’s like that with everyone, so it makes me feel a little better that it isn’t just me. I still pretty much hate his guts.”