Chapter 5
Lana
Grocery shopping with Callan was not something I ever thought would happen.
And yet, here I was, standing in the parking lot of a mid-sized grocery store with him, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited beside the car.
He didn’t say much, just watched me lock the door and adjust the strap of my tote bag over my shoulder.
I hated that I was nervous. Not because of him, really, but because grocery shopping had always been one of those small, independent things I could do for myself. Today, it felt different. Everything felt different when he was around.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, the frown between his brows deepening.
I studied him for a moment and shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong. Actually, I think everything’s right because you’re fully clothed for once. Almost had me believe that you do everything naked.”
That got a laugh out of him. Okay, it wasn’t a laugh. It was more of a mocking sound, as if what I said hadn’t been funny.
I thought it was funny.
“Let’s go.”
Okay, you big grump.
We walked inside, and I grabbed a cart instead of a basket because I had a feeling that we’d actually fill the large fridge back home.
Whenever I went grocery shopping, I usually only ever got a few things because I didn’t need much.
But Callan had taken me here intending to buy enough food for however many days, and he was determined.
He walked beside me, eyes scanning the store like he owned the place, but didn’t care being here at the same time.
Honestly, with all the money he had, he probably could have owned it.
But no matter how he carried himself here, it was just clear to me that simple things like grocery shopping weren’t normal to him.
“You look tense,” I said, amused.
“I’m not.”
“Then stop glaring at the produce like they personally offended you.”
He let out a huff, then started filling the cart almost immediately with whatever caught his eye. None of what he chose was cheap, and he kept grabbing items with the premium label on them.
I was baffled, but I decided not to say anything else to avoid worsening his mood, and I started down the produce aisle, carefully examining the tomatoes and apples.
I picked up a bag of baby carrots, glanced at the price, and set them back down.
The zucchini were on sale, and I grabbed two, feeling proud of myself for being reasonable.
I wasn’t trying to be cheap, but I also wasn’t going to take advantage of Callan’s money.
“Why are you putting those back?” he asked, sounding upset by my action. I kept my eyes on the vegetables.
“Too expensive,” I explained.
He let out a low hum and kept pushing his cart, which was soon halfway down the aisle, loaded with packaged meats, imported cheeses, and more bottles of soda.
“Lana, just get what you want,” he said finally.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Get whatever you want. Don’t worry about the cost.”
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t want to—”
“Lana,” he interrupted, a little firmer this time, “you pick what you want. That’s the point of this. Stop thinking so much about the money. It doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t say it mockingly, and he wasn’t looking at me like he was judging me.
To him, money obviously didn’t matter. To me, it was something I always used wisely.
“I don’t think I can just use you for money, Callan.”
“You’re not using me for shit. You live under my roof, you don’t have a steady job—”
Which he was right about, because occasionally getting shifts at the college café wasn’t a steady job.
“And I have enough of it.”
Money, that was.
I rolled my eyes at him. “That doesn’t make it any better, you know? You make it sound like I’m some kind of charity case you half-heartedly give money to.”
He shook his head, looking fairly annoyed now. “Call it whatever the fuck you want, Lana.”
Jeez Louise, calm down, big guy.
“Fine. Whatever. Just know that I don’t feel good about using you for money—”
“You’re not using me for money,” he repeated, his voice rougher this time. If he raised his voice a little more, everyone else in the store could listen to this conversation.
“Well, it feels like I am.”
“You’re not.”
“Still.”
“Lana.” He frowned at me, not looking pleased as he took a step toward me. I tilted my head back to look up at him, but stood my ground no matter how intimidating he was. “Put in that cart whatever the fuck you want without looking at the prices. Have I made myself clear?”
As serious as he was, and as much as he made my heart hammer for some stupid reason, I couldn’t stay serious.
I snorted and crossed my arms. “Yes, Daddy.”
My eyes widened instantly when I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I wanted to run and hide. But as my cheeks turned bright red, I couldn’t get my feet to move. Or any part of my body, for that matter.
A hint of amusement, then anger flashed in his eyes, and he raised a brow, tilting his head to the side. “Say that again.”
“I-I…” Laughing nervously, I shifted on my feet. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Say it again, Lana.”
My mouth parted, and I kept my eyes on his as his gaze darkened.
“I…”
“I’m not gonna ask again.”
We were in the middle of the grocery store, and he wanted to hear me call him daddy again. Holy shit, what the fuck?
“Lana.”
The more he said my name, the more permanent the goosebumps on my skin became. And I hated it.
No, I liked it.
Ah, shit!
Shit, shit, shit, shit!
I snapped out of the trance he managed to put me in and shook my head with another laugh. “I’m not saying that again. It was a joke. I didn’t mean it.”
“You were mocking me,” he stated, but even with that knowledge, he didn’t step away.
“Yeah, kinda.”
“But I am your daddy.”
“Stepdaddy,” I corrected, then quickly lifted my finger. “Ex-stepdaddy.”
I needed to stop saying daddy.
Ugh, more goosebumps.
Gross.
Instead of saying more, he dared to smirk.
He turned away and put his hand on the cart to push it down the cereal aisle.
I needed a moment to fully understand what that conversation was, and when my body finally listened, I started following him.
I didn’t give him any attention as I picked out two boxes of cereal, and down by the cartons of milk, I grabbed three of the almond milk.
“Why don’t you drink normal milk? You got that weird intolerance or something?”
He said it as if being lactose intolerant was just a made-up thing. But he was a man. He probably thought period pains weren’t real either.
“No, I’m not lactose intolerant. I have a milk allergy.”
He raised a brow. “Isn’t that the same?”
“No, it’s not the same, Callan.” I sighed, but before I could get annoyed with his lack of knowledge, I decided that not everyone on this planet knew certain things. I bet he knew much more about, I don’t know, banks and properties than I did.
He just nodded, then continued down the next aisle quickly, filling the cart as he went. He grabbed snacks I wouldn’t normally buy, and when I gave him a look, he shrugged. “I like this stuff,” he said simply.
“Is that all you eat?” I asked because I truly hadn’t really seen him eat actual, cooked meals.
“No.” He smirked, giving me a cocky look. “I also eat your food.”
“Ha, funny.” I shook my head at his attempt to annoy me. “You know, if you ever want to eat something, you just have to tell me. I’m a pretty good cook.”
“I have Francine for that.”
“How much does Francine make working for you?” It was a valid question, considering Francine pretty much did all the housework back home. She cleaned, she made sure the guests had everything they needed, and, apparently, she also cooked.
“She makes enough.”
“Yeah, duh, I figured that much. But I want to know how much you pay her.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Because if my career as a screenwriter doesn’t work out, I might consider becoming your housemaid.”
He shook his head. “You’re too smart to be a housemaid.”
I raised a brow. “Are you saying Francine is stupid?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” He shot me a glare. “Francine is close to seventy, and she’s been a housemaid all her life. It’s what she loves doing. You wouldn’t love being a housemaid.”
Hm.
“Still, let’s say I won’t make a career with what I love…would you consider me as a housemaid?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I already told you why.”
“Because I’m smart?”
He nodded, turning his gaze to the wall of chips in front of us.
“And you think every smart person will become successful in their field?”
“No, but you will.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because I read your script.”
“You what?”
He looked at me again. “I read one of your scripts. ‘While She Slept.’ It’s brilliant.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I laughed, feeling heat rising up my neck. “You read my script, and you didn’t even ask?”
“It was on the kitchen counter, and I thought it was one of mine. Relax, it’s not like I leaked it to the public or anything.”
No, he didn’t. But he read something personal to me, and he didn’t even tell me. I wasn’t sure what to think about it. For one, I was surprised that he thought it was brilliant, but I hated the idea that he now knew more about me than I ever meant to share.
“Just to be clear,” I said, fidgeting with the strap of my tote bag. “You saw a script and decided to read it, despite there clearly being my name on it.”
There was a pause, and he studied me with narrowed eyes. “Yeah. And it was brilliant.”
“Yeah, whatever—” I laughed again, shaking my head harder. “You should’ve asked.”
He kept studying me, and for once, he actually looked like he truly understood what I was saying and how I was feeling.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “I’m sorry for reading your script without asking. I should’ve asked permission first.”
Wow.
That was unexpectedly sweet and considerate.
I swallowed and bit the inside of my cheek, then muttered, “It’s fine. Thanks for thinking it’s brilliant.”
He didn’t say much after that. Just a small grunt and a nod before he continued down the aisle.
***
Back home, and after putting the groceries away while Callan argued with one of his porn star colleagues on the phone, I found myself in need of some alone time.
Admittedly, the trip to the store wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.
He still crossed a line when he asked me to call him “daddy” again and admitted he’d read my script.
It made me feel exposed and angry, but even then, being around him felt less impossible than before.
It was only early in the afternoon, and there was still time to do something on my own.
I packed a bottle of water and an apple before heading to the foyer to put my jacket back on.
I didn’t really have a plan, but the park sounded like a nice place to be this afternoon, and maybe I could finally finish the book I had started a week ago.
“Going out again?” Callan’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned around to look at him.
“Yes,” I said as I slid my arms into my brown leather jacket. “Just a walk. I need some air.”
He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “Again? We were just at the store.”
I laughed. “The store isn’t really outside, is it?”
He studied me, not looking pleased. “Where are you going?”
“The park.”
“Which park?”
“The one down the street,” I said with a shrug. “Or a different one. I don’t know yet.”
Callan’s jaw tightened. “It’ll be dark in a few hours.”
I hated the possessiveness in his voice. It had no business being there. We just spent a somewhat good time at the store together, and now he was trying to control me again.
I rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling up. “Callan, I’m not a kid. I don’t need you to watch me every time I step outside. I’ll be fine. You really don’t have to act like you care all of a sudden.”
He paused, and for a moment I thought he might argue. His expression softened just slightly, but the tension was still there. “I just don’t want you getting yourself into something stupid,” he muttered.
“I’m not doing anything stupid,” I said, my tone sharper now. “It’s just a walk.”
He kept looking at me until he finally gave in. “Fine.”
“Fine.” I shot him another look before picking up my tote bag and leaving without saying another word.