“I had no idea you were so funny,” I tell her, leaning over to kiss her. Tasting hot dog and ketchup, and her as well.
Already the need to taste her is back like I did earlier.
I shift the car into gear and head for the city.
“You wanna look for a nice hotel, or should we just buy a place?” I ask, half-joking but half-serious.
Abby looks stunned for a moment not knowing what to say.
“We don’t have to go anywhere expensive, Slade,” she says, looking guilty before we’ve even got to wherever it is we’re going.
Before we’ve even done what we both know needs doing.
“We do,” I correct her, “and before you even try to tell me you’re not dressed for it, we can do some clothes shopping. A little retail therapy is just what we need.” I figure jeans and a T-shirt might not be up to dress code for five star dining and accommodations.
I’m hoping we can win back some of the good feelings we had before my little run in with Tasha.
And I will call her when we stop. I just hope she’s cooled off a bit by then.
“Oh! How about here?” Tasha asks with a high-pitched voice a while later.
She’s finally okay with the idea of a little spoiling after I explain that I’m not as poor as I look.
We can afford it, and she’s worth every penny.
“… A king size bed and double bathroom…balcony with private pool area…”
“Sounds like us,” I cut in, listening to her list off what’s pretty standard for that kind of suite but she’s so excited about it I can’t help but feel the same.
As long as she’s with me, I could be in a cardboard box and be happy. But from now on it’s nothing but the best for my girl.
Five star treatment all the way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Abby
I was kidding about a couple of things, but Slade isn’t joking when it comes to spoiling me.
As if having him all to myself for the day and his face between my legs this morning isn’t enough, he’s left the details for our bed for the night up to me.
But he has his own ideas when it comes to where to shop.
“Oh Slade, I couldn’t,” I gasp, the designer storefront showing my reflection from the car.
My jaw drops as we pull to a stop just outside.
“You can, and you will.” Slade beams, and leans over to peck my cheek. Ordering me to stay put until he walks around to my door and helps me out.
“We can’t go to the ball dressed like this,” he says playfully, thumbing his T-shirt which I know for a fact looks just fine on him.
“The ball” being the five star suite he had me book on the way into the city.
Upgrading to the only one available at three times the advertised price, and even letting me give them his credit card details over the phone.
“Now, Abby,” he cautions me before we head in, the store’s valet already looking suspicious until Slade tips him a twenty. “Don’t get all mad if they wanna see my card first. And don’t mention the price of anything. Bad taste,” he whispers in my ear and I nod my head, pretending like I know what the hell he’s talking about.
But it’s not long before I catch his meaning.
Slade casually explains that we need a change for the night.
“And I need something plus-sized,” I add. The snooty-looking shop assistant casts his cold eyes towards me. This is all after he’s checked Slade’s credit card by the way.
No money, no welcome.
“I see what you mean,” the assistant mutters under his breath, but lucky for him Slade doesn’t catch it.
I clear my throat and ask loudly, “Slade, are you sure they’ll have your size, honey?” letting Mr. Crap Service know that I heard his horrible remark and no, I’m not Slade’s chubby daughter. I’m his ride for the night.
And for every night after that.
Even though I haven’t actually been his ride… that’s beside the point.
Slade looks pleased as punch that I’ve called him honey in public and he gives our assistant a quizzing look.
“I think we should have everything you need, Mr. uh… Peters,” The sales associate croaks, looking up before letting his eyes dart back to Slade's credit card.
Suddenly realizing that apart from not being the easiest body to fit, Slade could squash him like a bug if he heard him trash talking me like he just did.
Our assistant’s attitude shifts dramatically, ready to not just find things to fit Slade, but no doubt put a dent in his credit card for commissions. Me, I’m kinda left to my own devices.
Which suits me fine.
I’ve never liked clothes shopping anyway, but am as surprised as I’m excited to see the fuller fit section of the ladies department opposite the men’s.