He clicks his tongue as he browses the paint chips, muttering under his breath every now and then. Pursing his lips, he taps his fingers against the cards and puts a few back before grabbing more.
Eyes glued to the paint cards, he says, “Let me guess, you’re still not going to give me any input.”
“Nope.”
He sighs but cracks a smile so I know he’s more amused than annoyed. Besides, I think Fisher likes it when I’m a bit of a brat.
It takes him ten minutes to decide on colors and while they’re being mixed, he drags me back to the tool section and adds several different items into the cart. I recognize a drill and that’s about it.
Returning to the paint section he grabs some rollers and pans before loading the gallons in the cart. There’s barely any room left but he’s stacked everything like some weird game of Tetris.
The total at checkout has my eyes going wide. “Jesus, Fisher. You could’ve bought me a designer handbag for that price.”
He shrugs and taps his card. “I can still buy you a purse if that’s what you want.” He looks over his shoulder, awaiting my response.
I hate to admit it that I find it kind of hot the way he wants to take care of me.
“No, I’m good.”
“If you’re sure.” He pockets the receipt and loads up the items he bagged. “The offer still stands.” His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. He pushes the cart and heads for the parking lot with a pep in his step that should annoy me and I’m a tad concerned that it doesn’t.
“Are you sure all of this is going to fit in my car?”
“I’ll make it fit.”
The choked sound that comes out of me has him cracking a full-on grin.
Jackass.
I guess I underestimated my car, because he gets everything inside and there’s still room for more. I was mostly worried about the wood, but with the backseats down they don’t even reach the center console in the front.
“Where to next?” I ask, hopping in the passenger seat. I enjoy being a passenger princess, so I didn’t utter one complaint when he asked to drive.
“HomeGoods,” he replies, flipping his cap around backwards. “You need some rugs and more furniture.”
I snort a laugh. “You’re really going all out.”
His left-hand cups the steering wheel, his ring glinting from the reflection of the sun through the windshield. I gulp. I shouldn’t like the way that looks. I also shouldn’t be thinking about that hand around my throat, how that cool press of metal might feel.
Am I lusting after my husband?
I might be in hell.
“Anything for my wife.”
I squeak—like a little tiny mouse and my cheeks heat. I can’t believe that sound came out of me.
He grins and pushes his glasses up his nose. I’m sure he loves knowing he can still affect me so easily.
I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t so flustered.
At the HomeGoods I stroll behind him and let him do most of the picking since he picks all the things I would anyway, but I do slip a little ceramic duck into the cart that I think would be cute by the kitchen sink. Fisher gives me a pleased smile in return, and I pretend that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes don’t have me squeezing my thighs.
At checkout he arranges for delivery of the bigger items—like the side chair and desk he picked out as well as the various rugs. Everything else we load into my car.
I don’t bother asking where we’re going next. I figure I’ll learn when we get there.
A short time later he pulls into the parking lot of a thrift store.