“Aww, no, he’s not,” Millie said, wrapping her arms around Mr. Fluffy.
“And so are you.” Spike stared down at her.
Uh-oh.
Betsy wouldn’t like to be in Millie’s shoes right now.
10
SPIKE AND MILLIE
“Put me down!”
“No.” He carried her into one of the spare bedrooms.
“Why not? I can walk. I didn’t hurt myself. Although my boobs might disagree with me.”
He sat her down on the bed, and she gave him a disgruntled look as she pushed her hair back off her face. Spike stood over her with his hands on his hips.
“I don’t see why I’m in trouble,” she said. “Mr. Fluffy’s the one who stole the hotdogs.”
“Told you to stop running.”
Okay. Well, technically, that was true.
But she’d been trying to get the bag of hotdogs from Mr. Fluffy. If the vet called him F.A.T. one more time, Mr. Fluffy was going to lose his mind.
She just couldn’t deal with that. They’d have to find a new vet. There would be no other option.
“I mean, at least he did get some exercise in, right?” she said to Spike as he leaned over her.
“Could have hurt yourself,” Spike grumbled.
“But I didn’t, Daddy. I’m fine. Sure, I tripped a little, but I’m fine. I could run a marathon tomorrow. If I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
“You should have listened to me when I said stop.”
Millie really thought he was overreacting. She was fine.
Okay, so her ankle might hurt a little bit, but she definitely wasn’t going to tell him that. It would go away.
She hoped.
Suddenly, he crouched down in front of her and reached for her feet. She drew them back away from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Checking that you didn’t hurt yourself,” he told her.
She gasped, putting her hand on her chest. “Daddy, don’t you believe me? I told you that I didn’t hurt myself.”
“Then I should be able to look.”
They stared at each other.
It was a standoff, and she didn’t have any of her weapons. Not that she technically had any weapons, but she should have brought Chompers with her. There was no way that hey could win against a T-Rex.
Her eyes narrowed; his did as well.
