Young and hot, she looked like she could beat the hell out of any guy, despite her size. And he’d had her right there in his arms. Which was the safest place for her, whatever her opinion. No way in hell he’d stand by and let another preventable accident occur. Just thinking about it—about her—made him forget what he was meant to be doing. He looked into his trolley, where a particularly nasty wallpaper sample offered a visual reminder. A foxy woman fell at his feet, gave him the brush off, and the next moment he had a trolley full of ugly florals? He shook his head. How had his day come to this? He’d planned to dash into the store, grab what he needed and dash out again. In. Out. Easy. Only now he felt hot and bothered. Though whether it was the jumble in his shopping trolley or the sense he could’ve said or done something differently, he didn’t know. When had he got so useless at talking to attractive women? And how did all this shit get into his trolley? He picked up a paint chart of fifty shades of green and balanced it beside a blue floral wallpaper sample.
