“Bye!” Declan called over his shoulder. “Pleasure to meet you!”
“See you around!” the woman called.
In the parking lot, Geir brushed past the mechanic without a word. He handed Declan into the car, then leaned in to fasten his seatbelt. If he couldn’t hold him, at least he could make him as safe as possible.
Declan chuckled. “You’re such a Daddy.”
Huh. Maybe he was. Even if he still didn’t understand it. Not all of Declan’s mysteries needed to be understood, though, as long as he could make Declan happy.
Declan swung the door shut and rolled down the window. “Where to now?”
“You wanted groceries, right? Follow me right down this road and turn left at the light.” He wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.
Declan gave him a jaunty salute, then waited and followed closely behind him.
They parked side-by-side on the edge of the parking lot. As soon as Geir stepped out of his truck, he had both arms full of an exuberant Declan. When he tightened his grip, Declan wrapped his legs around him, too.
“Geir, you were awesome!” Declan peppered his face with kisses. “I wasn’t scared for even a second. And getting that charger… that was truly inspired. Thank you. Just… thank you.”
Then Declan was kissing him, all lips and tongue and sweetness.
Geir turned, pressing Declan’s back into the door of the truck so that he could hold him properly. He needed to be close. He needed to check that every inch of him was alright. And he needed a lot more kisses.
Finally, Declan broke away, gasping. “If we keep doing that, we won’t be able to go into the supermarket.”
Geir grunted. He didn’t care. They should just go home now.
“Uh-uh, you won’t convince me with that argument. I want pasta sauce. And chicken. And oh-my-god, chocolate. We need chocolate. Like baking cocoa and chocolate chips and ice cream. Or will the ice cream melt? Maybe not ice cream. Unless we pack it with frozen veggies? Can we get ice cream?”
Geir’s chest actually hurt with how beautiful Declan was and how much he needed to protect him. “Of course we can get ice cream.” It didn’t matter if it melted, as long as Declan was happy.
“Oh, good.” Declan slid down his front, giving an extra wiggle just to drive him crazy. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 16
Declan
Declan held up two packages for inspection. “Munster or sharp cheddar? They’d both be good toasted on your bread.” They had finally made it to the grocery store, and Declan had half a dozen recipes dancing through his head.
Geir wrinkled his brow.
“Ooh! Or mascarpone. We could serve it with grilled figs. And there’s goat cheese. Maybe to pair with the blueberries? What do you think?”
Geir slipped an arm around his waist. It was chilly in front of the dairy case, so the warmth felt good.
The public claiming felt even better.
He’d been worried about how Geir would treat him once they left their cozy cabin. Silently defending him against the homophobic mechanic on the first day they met and letting Ro see their relationship was entirely different from the display Geir had put on today.
Geir was acting like his boyfriend in public. And this wasn’t exactly New York. Geir didn’t seem to give it a second thought, though. If anything, after the incident in the garage, he got more handsy whenever someone gave them a funny look.
Since he was bigger than just about anyone out there, Declan got to prance down the aisles and look cute for Geir’s admiring eyes.
He could tell that Geir was still nervous and on edge. But Declan had been shamed and bullied enough to know that the bullies only won when you gave them the power to stop living your life. He’d been accused of not taking things seriously or being too trusting, but he didn’t want to live in a world of fear and self-hatred.
Declan stood on his tiptoes and kissed Geir’s cheek. Just because he could.
“Cold,” Geir murmured, but he was smiling. Declan had accidentally pressed the refrigerated packages against his arm. Geir took both and carefully set them in the cart. Or maybe on the cart, to be more accurate. Finding a place in their precarious mountain was its own achievement.
Declan grabbed the mascarpone. Then he thought about it and got the goat cheese, too. Get both seemed to be Geir’s solution to everything.
Declan was enjoying all the variety after the week of making do with canned goods. For a small-town grocery store, this place was amazingly well stocked.
He found a perfect spot for the cheese under a bag of tortillas and next to some olives where they probably, maybe, wouldn’t fall.
“Oh… I forgot the salsa.” He was pretty sure they’d passed it, but he hadn’t been thinking of tacos at the time. “Could you go grab some? Extra spicy if they have it. I think it was, like, back two aisles? On the left.”
Geir thought for a moment and then nodded. He turned and walked back the way they’d come.
Declan thought it was adorable sometimes how quiet Geir was. He was learning to read him, though. It was like there was a little code book in his head just for Geir’s grunts and nods.
Declan turned down the cereal aisle. Maybe something healthy and something sweet. He pondered his choices. Granola, maybe? That would be good with all the fresh fruit. Or maybe he could buy oats and make granola? Maybe both? He wanted a few boxes, and these were definitely too large to fit into the cart.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned, planning to ask Geir to fetch a second cart.
It turned out to be another shopper who gave him a scrutinizing look. Being fabulously gay and adorably femme in a small town was going to suck if this happened every time he left the house.
This guy was in his thirties, nicely dressed, and had that All-American Boy look to him. Declan would bet that he went to the gym because he liked looking at himself. They weren’t always the worst bullies, but there was a pretty good chance.
After meeting the homophobic mechanic, he was already on high alert. He went for kindness first, though. It was always better to defuse the situation. “Good afternoon.”
The man’s inspection melted into a smile. “Good afternoon, you must be new here.”
Well, that was a pleasant surprise. Maybe he’d read things all wrong. “Oh, I don’t actually live around here. I’m just picking up my car from the mechanic.”
“Ah. Are you on a trip or do you live in the area?”
“I live…” he wrinkled his nose. “Um, forty minutes… west?” He was a master at navigating New York City, where everything was on a grid, but this whole driving thing was throwing him off. Not to mention that he’d been having more fun teasing Geir in the car than paying attention to directions.
“Oh,” the man observed. “Up by those Indians.”
“They’re not…” He was about to say They’re not Indians, but he remembered that it was actually the word Ro had used. The word was fine. The way he said it turned it into a slur.
“They have a farm stand, right?”
There wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but he didn’t like where the conversation was going. Something felt just a little bit off. “I’ve heard they do,” he replied politely, hoping that Geir would be back soon.