Chasing the Runaway Bride by Susan Meier Page B

that are none of your business and then throw a sponge at me!”
    He gaped at his shirt and burst out laughing. Before she had a chance to realize what he was doing, he grabbed the sponge, dipped it, and tossed it at her chest again. But this time her reflexes kicked in and she caught it, dipped it, and threw it at him.
    “What was it you said about me needing a sense of humor?”
    Staring at his now sopping shirt, he said, “I said sense of humor, not vindictive water battle.”
    “What’s the matter? Can’t handle getting a little wet?”
    He chuckled evilly. “Oh, it is so on.”
    He expected her to run. Instead, she ripped off a hunk of paper towels, dipped them in the soapy water, and threw the blob at him.
    “Hey!”
    She grabbed for more paper towels. “You said it was on. You said I needed a sense of humor. Let’s settle this once and for all.”
    He leaned out of the way of her next glob of wet paper towels. Before she could grab more, he soaked the sponge and pitched it at her. The force of his throw caused it to land with a splat. A big, wet splat that threw water in all directions, soaked her shirt, and sent her glasses flying.
    She bounced back. Her shirt dripping. Her jeans wet. Her glasses gone.
    Laughing, she lunged for the sponge, but before she could reach it, he did. He dipped it and threw it at her again. She sputtered a gasp as she tried to back away and ended up slamming into a row of canned goods.
    “Not quite as good at a water battle as you think?”
    “I’m blind without my glasses! But I can still beat you!” She scurried back, groped for the paper towels, ripped off a bunch, and went for the bucket. But she slipped on the wet floor and landed face first.
    He laughed.
    She didn’t. “Damn it! I hurt my foot!”
    At the mention that she was hurt, all the fun zapped out of their game. “Oh.” He glanced around for the black frames and saw a small crowd had gathered. The older women grinned. The mom in the group appeared confused. Two men leaned around the women, trying to get a closer look.
    “All right.” Ah, Harmony Hills, your people just can’t step away from anything that might turn into gossip. “Since everybody’s here anyway, let’s find Piper’s glasses.”
    Without leaving their spots, everybody peered around.
    He sighed. “That’s not looking! Spread out!” He pointed at the two men. “You and you, check the next aisle over. Jen, how about looking under those shelves?”
    The group fanned out and within seconds Jen found them. “They must have slid on the wet floor.”
    “No. They flew.”
    “No. They hit the floor then slid.”
    Cade tossed his hands in the air. “What the hell difference does it make whether they slid or flew?” He shook his head. “Show’s over. Go back to shopping.” He gave Piper her glasses then reached down to offer her a hand up.
    She slid her glasses onto her face but didn’t take his hand.
    “Truce?”
    “Truce, hell! I beat you!”
    “Just how do you get that?”
    She laughed and peeked up at him. “First, I got you to stop throwing water at me. Second, I got you to find my glasses for me.” She grinned. “I am the queen.”
    He gaped at her. “That whole foot thing was an act?”
    She sniffed a breath. “I like to think of it more as a tactic.”
    “You know, I could pick up the sponge right now and throw it at you.”
    “I can be off this floor in ten seconds and have a wet paper towel in my hand in another five. So, give it your best shot, sweet cheeks .”
    He burst out laughing, really laughing, really enjoying her, and that very thought made him stop. Part of him wanted to lunge for the sponge, keep the game going to just enjoy her, and that brought him up short. Which caused the other part of him to decide he’d better retreat and think some of this through. In their thirty seconds of real conversation, he’d learned she wasn’t just sensitive, she had every right to be. She hated being a laughing stock. She