Thank you, St. Anthony.

“I did that on purpose,” said the beautiful yogurt woman.

Aiden’s breath escaped in laughter. “Fair play,” he said.

“I found my yogurt, among other things,” she said, putting her items on the line behind his partition. She glanced at his groceries and frowned. “But I forgot the frozen pizza.”

Aiden looked at his items. It must have looked bad. Two bottles of whiskey, crisps, and dozens of frozen items. But for all she knew, he was having a party. A party for one. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Goodfella’s thin crust margherita pizza.” For fuck sake...

She laughed another one of those light breezy chuckles. “I already regret not stopping by the frozen aisle, please don’t make it worse.”

“You’re welcome to one of mine,” he offered and immediately cringed at the sound of his own voice. “I mean, if not having frozen pizza might ruin your night, don’t let it be on my account.”

One brow arched as she looked from him to his many pizzas. “Well, you have talked it up.”

Before she could change her mind, Aiden promptly set the boxed pizza on her side of the partition. “You won’t regret it.”

She leaned on her cart and assessed him thoughtfully. “I heard the Irish were friendly, but I didn’t know they just went around giving their pizzas to strangers.”

“I don’t know how many of us do that, but I can tell you I get my charitable nature from my mother. She’d be disappointed if I hadn’t shared a frozen bounty with a beautiful woman.” Aiden clamped his mouth shut, shocked he’d let his words get away from him.

Very faintly, her brown cheeks grew pinkish by his remark. “Your mom raised a good boy,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m apparently still learning my manners. My name is Aiden and I speak without thinking.”

She laughed again and she reached to shake his hand. “My name is Antonia and I treat grocery stores like my own Thunderdome.”

Jesus, she’s as funny as she is cute. Aiden held her hand in his, shaking longer than he should have. When he released her, he could still feel her warmth against his skin. He wanted more. “Antonia? That’s a class name,” he said, nodding in appreciation.

“Oh jeez,” she said scrunching up her pert nose. She had a lovely nose too. “You think? Everyone just calls me Toni.”

“No, I like Antonia quite a bit,” Aiden insisted. “It’s real class.”

Antonia shrugged. “I think my father was on some neo-classical kick. My older sister’s name is Octavia.”

“Sounds like a couple of Roman generals,” Aiden said. “Real strong.”

She gave a half smile. “I think my sister does a better job of living up to her name.” There was a small note of sadness in her voice as she glanced down at her empty cart.

“Where are you from, Antonia?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I’m from Chicago,” she said, her face lit up again. “In America,” she added for clarification.