Read an extract from Special Delivery by Leesa Ronald.
The expected cool change had not materialised, so Poppy once again found herself driving with her arms in chicken wing stance to reduce the chance of underarm sweat. While she was grateful to her parents for lending her the old Land Cruiser, the lack of air-conditioning meant that she was permanently slicked in perspiration. It brought new meaning to the term ‘pregnancy glow’.
Poppy pulled up at the supermarket and killed the engine. Sliding down from the driver’s seat, she readjusted her sundress.
Today’s plan was simple. Buy enough food to stock a pantry, then cook and freeze, ad nauseum.
The cool air of the supermarket prickled the back of her neck as she grabbed a trolley and manoeuvred it down the aisles. After the sauna of the car and the radiating heat of the car park, the temperature inside was magnificent—almost orgasmic.
Poppy bit her lip to stop from laughing at the idea of an aircon gasm (an airgasm?) when she realised she was staring at a guy stacking the shelves. He gave her an awkward wave. Oh crap! What was his name? He’d been in her year at school. Big into Dungeons & Dragons. Gosh, she’d need to control the accidental sex faces in this town. Who knew who else she’d run into? Poppy gave him a double eyebrow raise, intended to translate as a casual whassup. D&D Guy smiled and wandered off. She couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. Was it Martin? He looked like a Martin.
Before moving back to Orange, Poppy had done a granular social media deep dive on as many former classmates as possible. Turned out she wasn’t the only one who’d resolved to get the hell out of town post-graduation. Of the fifty or so people in her year, there were only a handful left in Orange. A few guys were working in the mines, the vice-captain had taken over his family farm, one guy was an accountant. As far as she could tell, none of her female classmates were still in town. They’d all moved on to much cooler locales, which objectively made Poppy the biggest loser of their cohort.
She was pondering this depressing reality when the front right trolley wheel caught on a sticky part of the linoleum floor. Before she knew it, the trolley had careened into a shelf, sending bottles of pasta sauce flying.
‘Fuck,’ she whispered, looking around. Three bottles had smashed and red passata was everywhere. A giant red splotch had landed on her dress, smack bang on her groin. Fuckity-fuck.
She glanced around. There was no-one to help. She looked back to the puddle of sauce at her feet and realised dolefully that she could definitely not do a runner. The pasta sauce foot prints would give her away.
‘Are you going to get that cleaned up?’
Poppy swivelled and baulked. What. Were. The chances?
Ken-doll-in-scrubs (literally, he was wearing scrubs again) was walking down the aisle, gesturing to the chaos at her feet. ‘You can’t leave it like that,’ he said. ‘You should tell someone.’
Poppy glared at him. ‘Of course I was going to clean it up,’ she snapped, turning back to the shelf to inspect the damage.
Ken doll was behind her now. ‘I didn’t mean you personally should clean it up; I just meant you can’t leave this mess here and not tell anyone. It’s a safety hazard.’
‘Oh my god, go away!’ cried Poppy, squatting to pick the shards of glass from the red paste. As she started placing them uselessly in a pile, she could sense him shifting uncomfortably behind her.
‘Okay, I guess if you’ve got this under control, I can . . .’ He reached over Poppy to pluck a jar of pesto from the top shelf.
He was so close she could smell the laundry powder scent of his scrubs. His knees were probably two inches from her head.
A raging heat rose up her neck. I could swing my head back and smash this guy. His knees would buckle and he’d go flying. She could watch him squirm. The image of Ken doll covered in pasta sauce was an enticing one.
‘Right.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll be going then.’
‘Yeah, you can fuck off,’ Poppy muttered, still picking glass out of the sauce.
‘Excuse me?’ he said, turning around.
Poppy fixed him with a hostile stare. ‘I said goodbye!’
Extracted from Special Delivery by Leesa Ronald.
Special Delivery
by Leesa Ronald
An entrancing, laugh-out-loud enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy. If you like Book Lovers by Emily Henry and No Hard Feelings by Genevieve Novak, you'll love Special Delivery!
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