Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

“It’s okay,” he reminds me. “We’ll get through this. I won’t have you anywhere near this place or anywhere they know where to find you until this stops,” he says with conviction.

“How are you going to stop them?” I ask, not wanting to go to the police or anything. It’s all too crazy, and I have no idea who it even is.

“I don’t know yet,” Max says honestly. “But try not to worry about it, for now, we’ll go someplace a lot nicer. Maybe find something a lot nicer to think about too,” he adds, pulling out into traffic.

I feel myself relaxing more and more by the mile, and Trixie does too.

She’s not shivering like she usually does anymore, she knows we’re safe.

That something good has finally happened and things are looking up for once.

We don’t get too far when Max slows the car, pulling up in front of the kind of store I’d never even go into, wondering if his apartment is above it or maybe nearby.

“C’mon,” he encourages me. “I know I said we won’t talk about it, but we need to get you a new phone, like pronto. No more weird messages,” he says with authority.

“But Trixie,” I protest, realizing it’s some kind of shopping he has in mind, not exactly something I can take her along for.

“We can get her a phone too if you want,” Max says, keeping his face all business.

I groan out loud. “You know what I mean, Max. I can’t take a dog into the-”

But he stops me. “Sure you can. This isn’t the five and dime, Phoebe. This is real shopping. Will you come on?” he asks impatiently, only because I know he can’t wait to spoil me somehow.

Me and Trixie.

Before I know it, and after everyone who works in the store has greeted Max as if he owns the place, I’m in front of a glass top counter, picking a color, a case and being assured I can have help to transfer all my pictures and information over to a new phone, no problem.

Max is hovering nearby, letting a stranger pet Trixie which for the first time in her life she seems to be enjoying.

That’s the effect Max has on everyone and everything around him. He’s just so damned adorable himself.

“Max?” I murmur, getting his attention when the person helping me disappears to fetch me more choices.

“These are all really expensive,” I tell him, feeling awkward more than anything else right now. I appreciate his concern and wanting to get me another phone, but I could survive with a new number and SIM card.

“I don’t need a whole new phone,” I tell him.

“I like that one,” he says pointing and politely ignoring me. “What do you think, Trixie?” he asks in a baby talk voice.

I try to feel bad, try to get upset that he and Trixie are so close so quickly, but it’s no use.

I know he won’t take no for an answer, and Trixie does seem to be agreeing with him.

He’s picked the one I like the most too, which kind of settles it. I guess.

“Perfect,” he exclaims. “We can grab a few other things and maybe grab a bite while we wait for them to set it all up,” he says, guiding me by the small of my back into the rest of the store, which is more like a mall by the time I manage to take it all in.

“I never even knew,” I tell Max, feeling out of place in a sweater and track pants until I see some other girls in the same.

Designer brands though, and brightly colored, but nobody seems to even notice me or Trixie.

In fact, plenty of women have little dogs poking their heads out of expensive handbags.

“See?” Max says reassuringly. “Just a shopping mall. No big deal,” he adds but I notice him watching more than just Trixie or my reaction to the phone.

He’s brought me here to do some shopping, sure. But I can tell he’s also trying to flush out whoever might still be following us both.

He hands me Trixie once he can feel I’m a little lost without holding my baby, slipping a hand into mine too, instantly making me feel better about everything.

Nobody stares or points. Nobody laughs.

Most importantly, nobody creepy seems to be following us either and in no time we’ve both gone from window shopping to Max buying whatever takes my fancy.

“Have it sent here, will ya?” he tells every store clerk, telling me the art of shopping is to never have to carry anything home with you.

“It’ll be there not long after we are,” he tells me. “Unless there’s something you wanna wear right now?”

A few more stores later and I do find an outfit I like, and shoes to match that I decide to slip into.