Mr. H.O.A. by Carina Taylor (hot novels to read .txt) 📕

healthy." He shook his head. His eyes traveled from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

"Oh yeah, well, it was all the rage twenty years ago. I like to be vintage like that."

"Are you going to be able to carry that all the way to the checkout? Can I help you?"

"Oh no, definitely not. I can't afford you," I snapped as I turned around to leave. Shifting the basket handles into one hand, I snatched the business card from between his fingers. "In case my ship comes in."

His chuckle floated after me as I made my way to the front of the store. I didn't want to buy thirty pounds of grapefruit and oranges. No person in their right mind could eat that much citrus before it went bad—but it would be too embarrassing to go back to the produce section and unload my basket. Maybe someone was suffering from scurvy, and I could donate some grapefruit to the cause.

It was a good thing volunteering at the food bank kept me in shape. Carrying the weight was awkward but not difficult. I was used to throwing around fifty-pound sacks and heavy boxes of canned goods.

I tried to choose the quickest check-out stand, but there was only one open. Thank goodness they were so conscientious of people's time in this store.

I stepped behind a man who stood leaning against his cart reading the gossip rags. He glanced over his shoulder at me, rolled his eyes, and looked pointedly at the checker. There were still three people between the elderly gentleman and the checker.

He looked back at me and asked, "Care for a magazine?"

"Been here long?"

He nodded. "You don't think I was this old when I came in the store, do you?"

Biting my lip to keep from chuckling, I asked, "How are the royals this week?"

"Over-covered." He gave a disgusted look at the magazines.

"Not a romantic?"

"My wife calls me a practical man."

"Ah, so you got her a toaster for her birthday."

He grinned at me and nodded. "What's with the grapefruit?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, we have until the Lord returns, thanks to coupon-Betty in the front."

I couldn't stop the laugh that erupted from me. Because sure enough, a woman stood at the front of the line with her coupon notebook, flipping through it, pulling out little clips of paper. Unfortunately, my laughter shook the top layer of grapefruit from the basket, and they bounced onto the ground, rolling in all directions. They didn't even have the decency to stay close together. One slammed into the cardboard stand holding candy bars. Another bumped into the gentleman in front of me. Two rolled behind me.

I set the basket on the ground and turned around to attempt to catch the stray grapefruit.

A familiar tan hand reached the grapefruit before I did.

When I straightened, I looked into Bartholomew Fox's face. My cheeks heated as my eyes met his.

"I don't think these grapefruit want to go home with you," he said as he extended a large hand towards me, holding two grapefruit. Who had hands that big?

"Thanks." I reached for the grapefruit but fumbled during the transfer. I would have dropped them again if he hadn’t reached out to steady them in my hand. His fingers were warm against mine as he helped me set them in the basket again.

"Pesky little things, aren't they?" the elderly gentleman commented as he handed me the rogue fruit that had landed near his cart. He glanced behind me. "Bane?"

Bane's smirk changed to a polite, but warm smile. "Ron! How are you doing?"

He leaned around me to shake the man's hand. The air shifted as he brushed against me. It was one thing to look at someone like him. It was another for him to brush against me. I couldn't breathe.

"It's good to see you, Bane. We were just talking about you last evening. We were wondering when you were going to come by for dinner at the new house."

Bane chuckled. "The minute I have a free evening, I'll be over. How are you liking the new house?"

My head swiveled back and forth, sandwiched between the two men's conversation as I stood over a basket of grapefruit.

"It's perfect. That shop was the perfect addition. Just wait until you see it now that I've set it up."

"Can't wait."

Ron turned to me. "You know, this man is the best real estate agent I've ever worked with. If you're ever in the market for a house, look him up. He helped my wife and me find the perfect place to retire this year."

"Oh, I see. You must be able to afford—" Something solid and warm bumped against my shoulder. I glanced up to meet Bane's steely eyes, his hand squeezing my shoulder, warning me to shut my mouth. I changed my tactic and said, "Bartholomew loves finding the ideal place. Only perfection for him."

If looks could kill, I would have been a bloodstain on the concrete floor.

Ron was oblivious to the undercurrent as he spoke, "You know it's the attention to those details that makes him so good. He listened to all of our concerns and negotiated to fit the home within our budget. He never pushed us to spend more than we wanted to. You've got a fine man there. What was your name again?"

"Oh, he's not mine. And my name is Nola."

"Nice name. Haven’t heard that in years. Most Nola's I meet are even older than me. You two aren’t dating?" The gentleman glanced between us, noting the limited space between Bane and me.

"No, we used to be neighbors." I smiled when Bane stiffened next to me.

"Did you move recently, Bane? Where do you live now?" Ron asked him.

I glanced back at Bane. His smile was still there, but his eyes looked panicked. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. I jumped in to rescue him. He did save my grapefruit, after all.

"Yes, Bane is living at Willow Loop. Cypress Avenue." I could practically feel Bane's intake of