“I ordered dinner. We’ve both had a long day, and I figured I’d save us the effort of cooking.”
More like he wanted to save himself from the trauma of more camp food.
“We had a deal.”
“Yeah,” he says, sweeping past me with his Panera haul. “No Michelin-starred restaurants. Which, last I checked, Panera is not.”
“In case you forgot, we’re supposed to be travelling on a budget.”
“I used a promo code to get free delivery.” He flashes me the biggest, most self-satisfied smile I’ve ever seen. “Don’t forget to include my money-saving hack when you post tonight.”
“I can’t—”
“Come on, Luce. We eat out all the time.”
“At retro diners and drive-ins. They’re part of the Mother Road experience, which, last I checked,” I snark, throwing his words back at him, “DoorDash is not.”
He turns those big blue eyes on me, silently pleading for understanding. “I’m straight up going to hurl if I eat another hot dog.”
So much for my hot-dog-diet plan.
“Fine.” I huff out a breath. If he’s going to be dramatic, so am I. “Suit yourself.”
I turn and head for Tallulah, but Miles is on me in an instant, easily matching my stride and slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t forget about you,” he says, pulling me in close. “I ordered you a Strawberry Poppyseed Salad and a cup of that broccoli cheddar soup you like so much.”
That stops me in my tracks.
It’s exactly what I would have ordered for myself.
“How did you know?” The question is out before I can think better of it.
“We order lunch from Panera all the time.” He pauses, brow furrowed. “How could I not know?”
Because I’m always the one who places the order.
“And in case you’ve forgotten, I was there last month when you practically had a foodgasm gushing about the return of your favorite seasonal salad.” He holds the bag up and gives it a shake. “Now, can we please eat? I’m starving.”
After the burger and fries I had for lunch, soup and a salad would be amazing. And I’m impressed he got my order right. I really didn’t think he was listening when I was obsessing about the strawberry salad.
But no matter how much I appreciate the gesture—no matter how badly I want those leafy greens—I can’t crack. Not now. If I give an inch, he’ll take a mile, and next thing I know, I’ll be back on his payroll.
I can’t allow that to happen.
“No, thank you.” I slip out from under his arm. “I’m going to stick with my original dinner plans. I can hardly call myself a savvy traveler when I’m ordering takeout every night.”
Miles groans and tips his face skyward. “It’s just one night.”
“That’s how it starts. And before you know it, you’re making dinner reservations and booking five-star accommodations.” I smile up at him, then turn and walk backward toward the trailer. “From there, it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump to a flight home.”
“I told you,” he calls after me, “I’m in this for the long haul.”
Not if I have anything to say about it.
I shrug. “Talk is cheap. It’s action that holds meaning.”
Which is why I need to pull out all the stops to win this bet. No more holding back.
