“I’m not… upset. That was the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a really long time,” I say. “I guess… it feels like too much.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to get used to it,” he says. “Because I plan to keep spoiling you as long as you let me.”
“You can’t go and buy me clothes every time you want.”
“Sure I can,” he says. “Makes me happy.”
I start and stop about ten different reasons why he shouldn’t buy me things whenever he wants, and then decide it’s not worth it, which, to be honest, is what I call growth.
“Here we are,” he says.
He pulls into a lot of a place I’ve driven by a few times but never stopped at — an old general store, one of the few that hasn’t been bought out and taken over by a larger nationwide chain.
I look through the windshield, crouching down so I can peer outside.
“What do we need from here?” I ask.
“Well, I could maybe see if they have some coveralls and socks or something for the rest of the cleanup and for when you’re working out in the lighthouse’s yard. Besides, I think this place might have some of the things on your secret list.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I laugh at that. “Coveralls are really Posey’s area of fashion expertise.”
“Well, I’m not worried about Posey’s wardrobe. I’m worried about getting things you need to come be with me for the next five days. Socks, sensible shoes. Food… who knows what we’ll find!” He pretends to toss confetti in the air and I grin at him.
“Five days?” I repeat.
“You think I’m just going to let you go back to your house when I can have you at my place?”
I sputter.
“So I thought,” he says, and leans over and kisses me again.
Whatever I was going to say to argue with him dies on my lips the minute his touch lands
“Ha,” he says as he pulls away. “That’s a good trick. Gonna have to remember that.”
I roll my eyes, still grinning, and open up my door.
“Gunner,” I say, “let’s go see if they’ve got some dog treats in here for you. Looks like our sugar daddy’s going to be buying.”
“Don’t call me that,” Caleb says with a snort.
“You don’t want me to call you sugar daddy?” I tell him, delighted that I’ve finally landed on something that’s annoying him as much as he’s annoying me.
Not that I’m really annoyed.
Not that he’s really annoyed.
He holds out his hand, and I take it, Gunner walking on the other side of me.
The general store is well lit and friendly. A worker greets us as we walk in through the sliding doors.
No one stops to tell me Gunner should be on a leash, which is a relief because I forgot it at my house this afternoon.
The first aisle we walk through is full of exactly the kind of fancy stuff any bougie dog would want, so I grab a cart from the front of the store and loop back to fill it up with Gunner’s favorite treats and a new leash, just in case.
Not that I’m really thinking about staying there for five days, but if I do, I might as well.
“That’s the food Gunner likes, right?”
