Page 147 of Papa's Bébé
“Well, that’s rude. And if it’s true then I like Mayaworld better.”
“I think I do too.” He climbed out before she could ask him what he’d meant by that. Then he came around and opened her door.
When she got out, she looked around. They were kind of in the middle of the forest with hills all around them.
“Um, where are we?”
“It’s not where we are, it’s where we’re going.”
“Okay, oh wise one. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Wow.”
It was the only word she seemed to be able to say. But Matthieu got it. The land out here was beautiful. They’d walked the dogs and Big B for a while up an incline to reach this peak. Itwasn’t too far, since he hadn’t been sure how long a pig that big could walk. Or a dog as small as Gummy.
He'd ended up leading Gummy and Dougie and carrying the picnic basket while Maya led Tank and Big B. To both of their surprise, Tank had actually seemed happier. His ears had perked up slightly and Matthieu swore he nearly saw his tail wag.
But that might have been wishful thinking.
They were all good on the lead. Even Big Berry. When they arrived at the area he’d chosen for their picnic, Big B did a body wiggle as though in excitement. They secured all of the dogs and the pig before he laid out the picnic blanket.
Maya was too busy staring at the view to pay attention. “It’s like we’re the only people out here.”
“We are,” he replied.
“Are we allowed to have the dogs here? Are we allowed to be here?” she asked.
“And here my first question would be ‘is the pig allowed to be here?’”
Big Berry turned and gave him a huffy look. He swore that pig understood when they were talking about her.
Dougie let out a bark and smiled at them while Gummy stepped around delicately as though she wasn’t sure she approved of the grass she was standing on.
Tank was lying down, but he didn’t look dejected. He seemed . . . peaceful.
“Are we?” she queried again as she sat and he handed her a plate filled with food.
He’d found that it was often easier to plate up her food. If he let her get her own food, she put barely anything on her plate. It had alarmed him the first time he saw how little she’d intended on eating.
“We are,” he said. “I know the owner.”
“Someone owns this paradise?” she asked in an awed voice.
He liked that tone in her voice. He wanted to hear her speak like that when she looked at him.
Jesus.
Why did he think that?
“Yeah. I do.”
“You do?” She turned to him excitedly, nearly spilling the plate of food. “You really own this beautiful land?”
“Yep.”
“I can’t even think how amazing that must feel. To know that this is yours. But why?”
