When we reached the seasoning isle, it was completely empty, which was good considering a lot of crouching and squinting was about to take place. And probably a lot of yelling; that tends to happen when me and Grayson are in the same place. “We’ll need dried basil leaves, fennel seeds, Italian seasoning, salt, ground black pepper, and chopped fresh parsley.”
He glared at me. “Slow down.”
I repeated them slowly, watching as he bent over to read several bottles of the seasonings. I enjoyed the view, not of his derriere swinging around in the air, but of him struggling to read the small font and running his hand through his hair. I guess I enjoyed seeing him frustrated, especially when I was the cause of it. “They don’t have chopped fresh parsley so they’re going to have to deal with plain
