"I don't know if I consider this help," I said.
Two smooth legs dangled over the edge of the shopping cart I was pushing. One blonde hair tipped back, pressing up against the small upper basket of the cart. Rosie giggled.
"The pain meds that guy gave me aren't allowing me to walk in a straight line and I need s'mores. So, all this," she waved her good arm around, "is help."
I pressed my elbows into the cart, pushing her slowly. Her eyes strayed to the shelves. "Halt! Marshmallows!"
Now, I've heard of a lot of cures to combat the effects of drugs, but s'mores was a new one. As we left the doctor's office, I didn't even get Rosie near the cheap rental car before she had begged me for a trip to the grocery store.
And here we were.
"How do you suggest I make these s'mores?" I asked as I tossed her the bag of marshmallows. "I can't build a fire on my boat."
Nestling the gooey puffs to her chest, she used her nail to make a small opening in the bag. She popped a marshmallow in her mouth and looked up at me, chewing vigorously.
"Haven't choo ever made s'mores on the 'tove?" she asked.
"The stove?"
She smiled and I got a view of the white stuff floating in her mouth.
"Oh, Nickers."
I didn't answer. My mind had taken a total dive. I got behind the cart and pushed with a little more force. I swung through the aisles and loaded up on the graham crackers, chocolate, and some other grocery items. Rosie popped a couple more marshmallows and I headed to the check out line.
You would have thought that the cashier had never seen a grown woman draped inside a cart before. Rosie handed her the open bag with a smile to which the cashier responded with an unamused stare.
"Those carts are for groceries," the cashier said. Rosie didn't bat an eye
"I'm injured and on pain meds. Did you really want me to drive a motorized cart around this store, lady?" she asked. "'Cause I don't even have a driver's license."
I bit the inside of my cheek as the cashier slid my credit card, her jaw noticeably tensing. She ignored the question and handed me my receipt.
I started to laugh as I pushed the cart out of the store.
"You don't have your driver's license?" I asked.
"Nope!" she said cheerfully. "You've seen it yourself. My little neck of the island is made for walking."
"Yeah, but you might not always call that place home."
She turned and looked at me. I refused to decipher the question in her eyes.
"Since you're groceries, should I put you in the trunk?" I asked in attempt to lighten the air. Rosie held up the bags and I swung them in the backseat.
"I'm claustrophobic," she said. I turned to her and she held out her arm.
"Really?"
"Really."
I ignored her arm and went straight for her waist. The cart flew backwards as I pulled her easily out. She grabbed onto me and laughed.
She felt good in my arms. It was a beautiful, sunny day and my ears hungrily devoured her laughter. As I leaned down to kiss her, my mind suddenly sent time spinning backwards.
"Since when did a cart become a skateboard?"
I grinned. "Ever since God invented wheels."
Lauren's eyes sparkled as she grabbed the last bag from the cart. "I think cavemen invented wheels."
I took the bag from her, tossing it in the backseat. I pressed my ass against the car and looped my arm around her, pressing her against me. Her hands landed lovingly on my shoulders. "Well, they say we ARE descended from the cave people," I said suggestively. My hand slid down and groped her ass.
Lauren tilted her head and laughed. "You, yes." She looked around. "We're in a PARKING lot."
"So?"
I nudged her chin. She lifted her head as I pressed my lips hard against her throat. She moaned.
"Remind me again why I married you?" she mumbled. I felt her nails dig into the skin near my collarbone and smiled.
"That's what I'm doing," I said. In one swift motion, I turned her towards the door and hurled us into the backseat...
Just like that I came crashing back. My tongue was eagerly exploring the hot inside of Rosie's mouth; my hands had slid to her ass. I pulled back with a gasp, quickly trying to sort present from the past.
"Wow," Rosie said. She slumped against the car, her fingers brushing her lips.
"Yeah," I said, blinkly quickly. I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to freak out. Not this time. My flashback wasn't a bad sign. It wasn't. I kept repeating that silently to myself as I regained my barings. I opened the passenger door.
"Let's drop off the car and head out," I said in what I hoped was a light, not insane strain of voice. Rosie's smile confirmed I had succeeded.
"Sounds like a plan."
"That flame's too high. Turn it down."
"Wouldn't it be easier just to microwave these things?"
"What would be the fun in that? Now put the marshmallow on the kabob skewer."
The day had gone quickly. After returned to the boat, the meds had kicked in full force, knocking Rosie out for several hours. I spent the time putting away the groceries and thinking about the weird juxtaposition of my parking lot kisses and working through my guilty feelings. By the time Rosie woke up, I felt back in control.
At least until we started the s'mores. I followed her instructions, sliding the marshmallow onto the skewer. Rosie played with the flame a little more and nodded.
"Roast it!"
It wasn't that I didn't know how multi-functional a stove was; I couldn't begin to count how many times I had seen my sister light her cigarette using the flame from the burner. Still, I couldn't remember ever cooking a marshmallow this way.
"I like mine gooey," Rosie said.
I wasn't sure how to judge the gooey factor, but a few minutes later, I noticed the way the marshmallow began to slip on the skewer and I figured that was the point of pretty good consistancy. Rosie grabbed two graham crackers and a hunk of chocolate. I pressed the marshmallow on to the piece of chocolate and cracker that she held stacked in her hand and I took the other piece of graham wobbling on the edge of her palm from her. I used that top piece to pull the thing completely from its skewer. We both watched as the marshmallow oozed over the cracker, dripping along her fingers. It was the second time in a day my mind went gutteral.
"Perfect," she said. She brought the sweet sandwich to her mouth and took a big bite. My mouth went dry. How the hell were s'mores erotic?
Without thinking, I reached for her hand. I plucked the s'more from her and brought her gooey fingers to my mouth, slowly licking the sweetness from each one. She moaned. She wiggled.
Then she gasped.
I was inwardly priding myself on having my groove back when her gasp turned into a squeal. The squealing didn't sound quite as hot as her other responses. I paused, the tip of her pinky in my mouth. Rosie's eyes were wide.
"Nick...your...your shirt's on fire!"
