“Thanks,” I murmur, slamming the trunk closed. “Where to next?”
She looks down at her hands and winces, her cute little nose scrunching up. “Kind of a weird request, actually.”
I stare at her expectantly. What is it? Prada? I rack my brain for another designer name but come up empty. I only know Prada because Faye, Sin’s wife, once bought herself a bag and we didn’t hear the end of it for a whole week.
“What?” I ask when she still doesn’t say anything.
“Can we go to a pet store?” she asks, glancing up at me. Fuck, she’s pretty. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women over the years, but there’s something about Shayla. Something that makes me want to protect her. Something that I’m sure as hell going to ignore.
“A pet store?” I ask, furrowing. “I don’t think now is the best time for you to be a pet owner.” I pause. “Unless you’re getting an already trained German shepherd or rottweiler.”
She purses her lips. “You asked, and that’s where I want to go. Will you take me or not?”
“All right,” I say, nodding slowly. “Pet store it is.”
She never does what I expect.
I don’t like it.
* * *
“Oh my god, how cute is she?” she beams, pressing the puppy’s nose against her own. I watch in fascination as she puts the black puppy down and picks up a tan mastiff-looking pup.
“Aren’t you adorable? Yes you are,” she coos, a peaceful expression on her face.
Of all the places she could have chosen, she wanted to come to a pet store.
To hug puppies.
Not sure what to do with this information, I just watch her in her element, hugging each and every puppy, rubbing their bellies and baby talking to them. For a split second I wonder if it’s possible for her to take one home, or maybe even ten, because it obviously makes her happy as fuck. It looks like this right here is her happy place.
I glance down at my watch and realize we’ve already been here an hour. The pet shop owner keeps giving Shayla dirty looks, probably because she knows she’s here just to get her puppy fix. Every time she looks like she’s about to say something though, I send my own look in her direction, which shuts her up.
“Vinnie, how cute is this little guy?” she asks, lifting up a giant puppy in her hand.
“Do you want to get one?” I ask, once again without thinking.
Fuck.
What was wrong with me?
“No,” she says, smiling and shaking her head. “I’d love a puppy, but I wouldn’t buy one from a pet store. I’d rather get one from a registered breeder.”
I open my mouth, then close it, having no idea what she was raving on about. Why did she want to come here then?
“I just wanted to see some puppies,” she says, shrugging with a small smile on her delicious lips. “Do you want to get something to eat now?”
“Sounds good,” I tell her, rubbing my stomach. “I could seriously go for a burrito.”
“Burritos it is,” she says, easily agreeing when once again I expect her to argue. This is her chance to go and eat in a fancy restaurant or something, after being cooped up for so long, eating nothing but takeout.
“You sure? We can go eat somewhere else if you like,” I say as we get back into the car, glancing over in her direction. “I can grab a burrito on the way home.”
“A burrito actually sounds good,” she says, kicking her bare feet up on the dashboard. “Chicken, white rice, and chipotle sauce.”
I grin at that. “Fuck yeah. Looks like we finally agree on something.”
SIX
Shayla
“I CAN order things online,” I explain to him. “It’s not my name or credit card, so it can’t be traced to me. So that’s why I don’t really need to do any shopping.” I walk by some green grapes and pick up a bag, putting them in the cart. “Grocery shopping, however . . . I’m in heaven right now.”
Vinnie shakes his head in amusement and grabs some salad. “Are we going healthy then?”
I grin as I put some potatoes in the cart. “Half healthy, half junk food?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “My kind of girl.”
We both look into each other’s eyes after he says that, a weird tension building between the two of us. It’s me who clears my throat and changes the subject. “I think the two burritos you had covers the junk food for the day.”
He shakes his head, disagreeing. “There’s corn and shit in there. That makes it healthy. What are we going to do for dinner?”
“You cooking?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I was hoping you would,” he says, flashing his straight white teeth at me.
“Since you took me out today, I’m sure I can make an exception. What would you—”
“Lasagna with breaded chicken,” he says quickly, before I can even finish the sentence.
“Isn’t that a little weird?” I say, brow furrowing. “Did you make that up, pairing those two together, or is it an actual thing?”
“You asked and that’s what I’d like.” He pauses. “Please.”
“Okay,” I say, dragging the word out. “Sounds easy enough. I’ve never made breaded chicken before, but I’ll just google a recipe.” I pull out my phone and check the ingredients. “Simple.”
“Fuckin’ awesome,” he mutters under his breath, making me smile.