Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)(32)
“I think it’s beautiful,” I admit. “But I don’t have any occasion to wear it.” This is a special event dress, not something you throw on to go out to dinner.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Caleb specifically requested that I pick out something just like this for you.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, holds out the dress, and leads me toward the dressing area.
“What for?” I ask.
Felicity shrugs. “No idea, but we’re shopping on his dime, so I do what I’m asked. Today I’m just a consultant, and the hired help, so if he wants me to buy a dress, we’re buying a dress.”
Far be it from me to turn down an offer like that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Looks like you had fun today,” Caleb says, with an amused glint in his eyes as they roam over the piles of bags that Sam brought up from the car.
I feel self-conscious and embarrassed all of a sudden, and I can’t really put my finger on why. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m just now getting a good look at everything I brought home with me, and Caleb’s the one who footed the bill. Maybe this wasn’t what he was expecting? I think it’s too much, but Felicity had insisted. Maybe Caleb thinks it’s too much, too?
“I did have fun, although I think Felicity went a little overboard.”
Caleb leans in, and kisses me softly. “I asked her to spoil you, so I think she’s still on the ship.”
When he looks over at Sam, Sam gives him a little nod. I have to admit that I find the fact that the two of them can have a whole conversation without saying a single word a little unnerving.
“The security wasn’t so terrible, was it?”
“Not so terrible,” I say, giving Sam a teasing smile. “He was a good sport about letting us stop for ice cream.”
“I’ll always let you stop for ice cream.”
I step forward, and shake Sam’s hand. “It was a pleasure. I apologize for complaining about it at first.”
Sam is about to say something, but Caleb cuts him off, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t worry. You’ll have more time to get used to each other.”
Somehow I knew that this wasn’t going to be the only time I was going to have Sam’s company, but I’m not going to fight Caleb on it.
“Will that be all, Sir?” Sam asks Caleb.
Caleb nods.
“It was nice to meet you, Sam.”
“You too, ma’am.”
I let out a long-suffering sigh. “I see we’re back to this ma’am business. I’m going to break you at some point.”
Sam grins at me. “I look forward to it.”
Once Sam is out the front door, I turn to Caleb, who is pulling on his tie. “You’re not very friendly with him.”
He looks at me as if I’ve just said the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “I pay him to make sure that nothing bad happens to you, Mia. I don’t have to be nice to him for that.”
I furrow my brow, and Caleb’s expression softens. “It would be nice if you could be nice, that’s all I’m saying.”
“That’s not the way I do business, Mia.”
“I’m not telling you how to do business, Caleb,” I reply. “It’s just an observation, that’s all.”
He takes a deep breath, then unbuttons his cufflinks and starts rolling up his sleeves. “Noted. You had fun today?”
“Yes!” I reply, nodding. “I like Felicity a lot.”
Caleb grins fondly. “Me too.”
“I’m glad that you set up our little clothing expedition. I’ve never really enjoyed shopping, until today.”
“And it looks like you were successful,” he says, pointing at the mountain of bags.
“We were.” I take a step forward, stretch on my tip toes, and kiss him. “Thank you. That doesn’t seem like enough, but…thank you. I didn’t know how much I needed a day out.” A safe day out, is what I really mean. Even though I fought Caleb over sending Sam along with us, I’m glad he was there. He allowed me to enjoy myself out in public in a way that I haven’t since I left Chicago.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Caleb replies. “But if you really want to do something nice, have dinner with me.”
“That sounds like it’ll be nice for me, too.”
He takes my hand, and plants a kiss across my knuckles. “Here’s hoping.”
* * * * *
When Caleb asked me if I would have dinner with him, I assumed he wanted me to put on one of my new dresses, and join him at some restaurant that had a months-long waiting list, where he’d be able to walk right up to the hostess and get a table. I was not expecting him to take my hand, lead me into the kitchen, and pull out one of the barstools. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, mostly teasing, but still kind of confused.
Caleb gives me a mischievous grin. “I’m making you dinner.”
“That’s why you rolled up your sleeves?” I say, as I pour two glasses of wine.