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Dakota

A deep voice asked, "Excuse me, can you tell me where to find cocktail peanuts and margarita mix? This sweet little lady just agreed to come over for drinks, and I don't have a thing in the house."

The voice belonged to a big man in a motorized cart. Standing beside him was one of the regulars, Victoria Witherspoon, who was a bit of a celebrity, a romance writer who had once sold a book to Harlequin.

Dakota tore his gaze from Seth's, giving him an apologetic look, then focused on the customer. "Of course, follow me."

Poor Seth. It was an easy mistake to make. And he was so cute. Dakota couldn't count the number of times someone had come with the same expectations. Who wouldn't? Selling romance to the elderly wasn't exactly an everyday thing.

Dakota's boss always talked about how "true love blossomed best among the baked goods" (or in the dairy section with the milk of life or surrounded by suggestive sausages or whatever her metaphor of the day was). But as far as Dakota could tell, gay nineties night was a Pick and Grab exclusive.

And here he was, escorting Miss Witherspoon and her new beau to the cocktail peanuts when he could have just told them aisle five and kept flirting with Seth of the quirky hat, who must be new to the neighborhood since Dakota would have noticed him if he'd come in before. Everyone in the neighborhood came through the Pick and Grab at some point.

"Thank you so much for your assistance," Miss Witherspoon said as they got to aisle five. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, but Gerald insisted, and it's beneficial for men to ask for what they need. Do you not think so?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dakota thought Gerald looked smart enough to have found the peanuts himself. He wondered if Gerald knew Miss Witherspoon approved of a man who asked for directions. That indicated a lot more emotional intelligence than anyone he'd seen Miss Witherspoon with before.

Starting back toward the produce section, he heard, "Now, he's a hottie. Did you get his number?"

Dakota turned to find Celia at his elbow. She was dressed even more regally than usual, in a long red velvet duster over a white silk top and skinny jeans. As always, she wore so much jewelry that she jingled when she walked. At nearly ninety-three, Celia was the sexiest woman Dakota knew.

Dakota glanced toward Seth, who was sniffing a melon like he knew what he was doing. "I'm not that smooth an operator. All I know about him is his name."

Celia looked smug. "He just moved here from Chicago for a job. He only lives a few blocks away. And he's single."

Dakota stared at her.

She gave Dakota an affronted look. "What? I asked. The poor man probably thought I was trying to get into his pants. Not that they aren't great pants, but I'm not stupid. And I don't rob cradles. If you want his number, you'll have to ask yourself. I have some boundaries, after all."

Dakota laughed. "Since when?"

"Since my therapist insisted I get some. Now, what are you doing talking to me when you could be working your magic on him?"

He shook his head. "I'm at work, and I'm not part of the great gay nineties experiment."

"Me neither. That's for old people. I'm just here to grab some tikka masala sauce and a chicken breast for dinner." She rested a hand on Dakota's arm. "Go flirt with the boy. You're too young to have to go home alone."

Dakota smiled. "I want to be just like you when I grow up."

Celia gave a little wave and wafted off toward the international food section.

Brooke's voice crackled over the loudspeaker. "Manager to register 4, please."

Dakota glanced at her standing behind her register twenty feet from him. "You could have just said something to me directly."

"But this is more fun." Brook grinned at him, clicking her black nails against the microphone.

He sighed and closed the gap between them. "How can I help you?"

"I saw you walking that couple to a more private aisle and just wanted to remind you that you don't need to play matchmaker. They're old enough to figure it out on their own."

"He asked where the cocktail peanuts were, and I showed him. That's all." He tried not to sound defensive.

"I'm just saying. Sometimes you can't help yourself. But hey, did you see the weird but kind of cute guy who just came in, the one with the hat?"

Dakota felt himself blushing as he said, "Can't say I noticed."

"Yeah, you did. I saw you talking to him in produce."

"To do that, you must have left the register."

Brooke shrugged. "Right now, the only thing anyone's checking out is each other. On Tuesday nights, nobody buys anything until they know they've struck out."

"You still have to stay at your station."

"Yeah, whatever. How about tonight you forget about matchmaking the elderly and see if you can get some for yourself. That hat guy is nerdy as hell, but I bet you think he's fly."

"If you're so into him, maybe you should give it a try."

Brooke laughed. "Don't be stupid. I'm not into him. He's old and gay and wears a weird hat. But he looks perfect for you."

"Nice. Thanks. You really know how to build a guy up."

"What can I say? It's a gift."

Dakota shook his head and walked away. He clearly needed to tighten up his management style. How pathetic was it that his co-workers and the customers were trying to set him up?

Still, they were right. Seth was a hottie, fly and a bit of a nerd, but then Dakota had always had a soft spot for guys like that. And a little harmless flirting would be fun, not to mention on-brand for the store.

Dakota tried to look like he was all business as he walked back to the produce section. He practiced a few opening lines in his head. That's a great-looking cucumber you've got. Are you a mild pepper or jalapeno kind of guy? They all sounded ridiculous. Maybe, Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me? It was oldies night, after all.

But when he got to the produce department, Seth wasn't there.