Fiona refused to step back. “I’m not concerned about standing anything. I just wanted to extend an olive branch. Make things easier if we meet in a supermarket aisle.”
Wyatt’s gaze took her in. There wasn’t the familiar twinkle in his eyes. “The supermarket aisle?”
He knew that she wasn’t a cook and that she rarely shopped. Takeout was her preference. If she looked away now, he would’ve won. He would have the upper hand. “People change.”
“You look exactly the same to me, Fi.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. “Then we’ll just ignore each other?”
“Works for me,” Wyatt said.
He left her personal space, pulling open his truck door. She could breathe again. He’d smelled as good as she remembered. He climbed into his truck, not looking back at her at all.