Page 36 of Clean Slade
“What I think of him is irrelevant.”
“Tsk, he likes him. Rhett, you better get your good suit ironed. I hear wedding bells.”
“No one is getting married, Mom! You’re jumping way ahead!”
“When do I get to meet this man and my granddaughter?”
I huffed and shook my head.
“You guys are impossible.”
“Hey, Slade. I got the bread.” Mac approached me with a basket that looked bigger than her, with a mountain of candy making it appear even bigger.
“Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll try and call again soon.” I hung up on them before they said anything more out of line and turned my attention to Mac.
“That’s more than just bread,” I told her.
“You said I could get candy.” Immediately Mac’s face dropped, and a fake pout formed on her lips like the master deceiver she was.
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? I meant to saysomecandy. So we’ll have to put some of this back. I’m pretty sure we don’t need candied pretzels. That’s gross. I’m starting to worry about your tastes, Mac.”
She rolled her eyes and put the pretzels back with a heavy, dramatic sigh.
“Come on. Let’s pay for these and get back to your dad.”
Which was exactly what we did. Or that was the plan until we came out of the store and a big, fluffy puppy appeared at our feet.
“Oh-my-God-it’s-so-cute!” Mac practically screamed and dropped to her knees to pet the little dog.
It was a black-and-white Toy Fox Terrier that wagged its tail at dizzying speed for Mac’s benefit.
“What’s its name?” Mac looked up at the dog’s owner, a large muscular man with dark features and a pair of shades. If his jacket were any smaller, it would have ripped at the seams.
“Lucky,” the man answered, smiling at Mac when she screeched even louder and hugged the licking dog.
“Sorry,” I said.
The man shook his head.
“It happens a lot,” he answered.
“I bet. He’s a real sweetheart.” The man tipped his head, and I took that as our cue to go. “Come on, Mac. We’re gonna be late.”
Mac pouted again, but she followed me to the car anyway.
“Are you gonna be upset for the rest of the day?” I asked, looking at her via the rearview mirror.
“Maybe.” She shrugged.
“Don’t you see, like, a million dogs every day at your dad’s store?”
“I do. But I don’t get to play with them unless their owners are late to pick them up. It’s so unfair.”
“What is? That more people aren’t late?”
“No. That we can’t get a dog. Or a pet of any kind.” She crossed her arms, and I frowned.
“Why not? Don’t tell me your dad is scared of pets too?”
