“Seriously? You think I don’t know how to shop?” I turn her around to face the restaurant. “Who do you think bought all of this?”
“Someone who’s going to choke when he tries to propose to my sister.”
Winnie’s glaring at us.
Kathy gives me a long stare.
“Let’s go, Kathy. We have the engagement party, and we have to move everything over to the Raincloud for—Loony Laura—I mean—” Winnie makes a face and looks around guiltily. “Er, Laura—and we have to stage things in the morning.”
I cup her face. “So you’re worming out of being tonight’s entertainment?”
“I actually have a job.”
“This sounds like forced prison labor.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I’ll take you home, then.”
“I don’t need—”
“Let him come, Winnie,” Kathy begs.
Winnie sits next to me, arms crossed, while her sister and granny dig through the minibar in the limo as it drives us through the dark Seattle streets to Winnie’s neighborhood.
I draw Winnie to me. She’s stiff, then she relaxes.
“That’s what I love about you,” I murmur into her hair. “You don’t give it away easy, do you? You’re like a cat. You just need a man to stroke you just right, then you start purring.”
The flush creeps up her chest.
“You sure,” I whisper as the car pulls up in front of her house, “that you don’t want to come home with me?”
She shivers. “Um—oh my gosh.”
The driver opens the door, and we can hear Fidget howling.
It’s raining because it’s Seattle. It’s always raining.
“We tried to take her outside,” her dad says over the howling, “but she won’t go, and she was scratching at the door. We thought she wanted to go out.”
“She needs her rain booties. She doesn’t like her feet to get wet. And she needs her raincoat,” Winnie explains.
Fidget sees me and wags her tail, rushing over to me. The dog seems a little annoyed—angry? upset?—that I’m not staying.
That’s weird. She’s a dog, not a person.
“Don’t forget,” I whisper before I let Winnie go into the house. “You belong to me.”
Out of force of habit, I stand outside watching her house, the lights going on and off, until the misty rain is too much.
As I’m getting back in the car, another passes us.
It should just be normal activity. It’s not like Winnie lives on a cul-de-sac. There are lots of other houses on her street.
Still.
I wait, watching the car go past, trying to see who is driving.
