13. Cisco
Cisco
“ T his isn’t Trader Joe’s.” Marisol angled her body to get a better look at where Cisco had taken her.
She was correct. This wasn’t Trader Joe’s.
Because Trader Joe’s wasn’t a pet supply store, and Cisco feared for the cat if Marisol was left to her own devices.
That was why he left work to come help her. Definitely no other reason.
It was a perfect day for Cisco to leave work early.
He intentionally didn’t schedule any clients since he was going to help Tiny with inventory.
His cousin wasn’t thrilled to be left to deal with the work by herself, but the extra two hundred dollars he promised made her a little less mad at him.
Especially after he mentioned how much he enjoyed Marisol’s company, and how he hoped this could turn into something serious one day.
“Someone must be twitterpated,” Tiny had said before he left.
“What the fuck is that?”
Tiny rolled her eyes at his lack of pop culture knowledge. “Have you never seen Bambi ? You know, twitterpated ,” she stressed again like repeating the word would somehow make him understand.
It didn’t.
“Trader Joe’s doesn’t have what you need,” Cisco said as he unbuckled himself. He reached over to unhook Marisol’s seatbelt, but the cat—Snowball, apparently—hissed at him from her lap and swatted at his hand.
“Lovely cat you found,” he mumbled.
Marisol smiled, happily petting Snowball, who leaned into her touch and purred loudly. “She’s mean and hates everyone. That’s why I like her.”
“I’m glad you bonded with a demon cat.” Since Snowball was now officially distracted, Cisco risked his hand and quickly undid Marisol’s seatbelt for her. The soft laugh he earned from her made it worthwhile.
“This is a boutique pet store. It has all the freshest ingredients and accessories spoiled pets will need. Tiny has a chihuahua, fucking terror that she spoils rotten. The damn thing eats dinner on a gold plate. She gets all her pet stuff here,” he explained.
“Snowball should find this satisfactory then. Can you get my purse? Stella, the woman from the shelter, gave me a list of things she’ll need,” Marisol said. “Snowball can come inside, right? Since it’s a pet store.”
Cisco nodded. “Yeah, you can put her back in the box?—”
“I will not put her back in the box. She hated that thing! I’ll just carry her,” Marisol argued, but before Cisco could reply that it might not be the safest option, she was out of the car with Snowball in her arms. It gave him the perfect view of her ass as she dipped her head before stepping out.
If he were a better man, he’d look away and not ogle her body while her back was toward him. But he was, in fact, not a better man .
Not wanting to be left behind, Cisco got out of the car and quickly caught up to Marisol.
On instinct, he placed his hand on her back, searching both ways for cars before crossing the street.
He had set foot in Tiffany’s Pet Co. before, so he was familiar with the layout and knew the cat stuff was toward the middle of the store.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Marisol moved away from his grasp and headed toward the row of beige carts.
Instead of a seat for a toddler, there was a small space for animals.
She placed Snowball down, quickly making sure she was comfortable before rejoining Cisco.
Her shoulder brushed against his, and he didn’t imagine the way her cheeks reddened at the contact.
He took a smug satisfaction in knowing he could make this beautiful woman blush for him. Pushing his luck, he placed his hand on her back again and waited for her reaction. Marisol leaned into him. It was subtle, but he felt it.
Since their first date, he had been eager to see her again.
He regretted not kissing her the night he dropped her off, but he hadn’t been sure how sober she was.
He wanted her to remember their first kiss, and he didn’t think it was the right time.
At least that was what he thought at the time.
Looking at her painted red lips, pouty and begging to be kissed, he hated himself a little for missing the opportunity. He wouldn’t pass it up again.
“So…where do we go?” Marisol’s voice broke through his fog. He had been staring, and she noticed, judging by the sly upturn to her lips. He was caught red-handed but didn’t have the decency to look ashamed.
“You have your list?” he asked.
With her hands now free, Marisol searched through her little pink bag he was holding, pulled out a wrinkled paper and handed it to him. “This is the food she needs. That’s all that’s on there, though.”
“Then food first.” He gently urged her forward.
Tiffany’s was not busy, only the occasional dog owner with their expensive dog snaked between the aisles.
The cat aisle, full of various prestigious brands to choose from, was empty.
Colorful bags of cat food lined the shelves, ranging from grain-free to carnivore food and everything in-between.
“Damn, who knew cat food was such a lucrative business?” Marisol ran her hands down a purple bag designed for outdoor cats.
“You’re going to need this one.” Cisco located the indoor, grain-free cat food with gut health.
Whatever the fuck that meant for cats. It wasn’t a particularly large bag—for the price, he would have liked it to be twice the size.
Still, he put two in the cart. He then moved on to the wet food and grabbed the chicken and veggie one listed on the paper.
“Those look heavy,” Marisol commented, looking at him with long black lashes.
“I’ll carry them for you, Princesa. Don’t worry.” He winked.
“A chauffeur and a grocery boy? If this is your idea of a second date, you are doing great,” she teased, eyes shining with mirth.
“Is this a second date?” he teased back. “Because if it is, I want to take you to lunch after this.”
“Well, I suppose I can schedule you in. I’m dreadfully busy. Laundry to be done. Dishes to be washed.”
“That’s very domestic of you,” Cisco joked.
“Actually, Mrs. Baker does it for me. She’s wonderful.”
“And Mrs. Baker is?” Cisco asked, raising a brow.
“My maid,” she said simply .
Of course she had a maid. He didn’t fault her for it.
He had a bi-weekly cleaning company that scrubbed his house from top to bottom.
He wasn’t a messy person, but his time was limited, so this helped keep his house in order.
Strangely enough, it also helped with his mental health.
There was just something about a clean house that eased pent-up anxiety.
He didn’t know Marisol well…yet, but he believed she had enough pent-up anxiety to deal with.
“Could Snowball come to lunch with us? I don’t want to leave her alone yet. We could get her a carrying case?” Marisol suggested, gently brushing the cat’s fur with her red-manicured nails. He thought briefly of those nails being dragged down his back while he…
Yeah, no. Definitely shouldn’t be thinking of that.
“Yeah, I know a place. Let’s grab the last few things she needs,” he said.
Marisol allowed him to take the lead, which Cisco was all too happy with.
He found her a self-cleaning litter box with odor-free litter.
Marisol seemed particularly thrilled about that.
To him, it looked like a little cat spaceship Snowball could shit in.
After a quick Google search to look at reviews, he noticed they were overwhelmingly positive, which helped justify the hefty price point.
“Oh, I want to get one of those scratchy post things. Cats love those, I think,” Marisol said once they entered the toy aisle.
Toys overflowed the shelves, from squishy mouse toys to fluorescent fish on a stick.
It took a bit of searching until they came upon the cat towers, all equipped with multiple cat scratching posts.
He didn’t know so many different types of towers existed.
“Hmm, what do you think, Snowball? Which one do you like the most?” Marisol scratched Snowball behind the ears. Snowball looked up, cast a glance around, and put her head back down, clearly uninterested.
Cisco couldn’t offer any words of wisdom.
He never owned a cat in his life. Marisol inspected each tower.
The short, small ones and the large towers that looked like they trained cats for the kitty Olympics.
After a moment of deliberation, she pointed to a tower with three different stories and two scratching posts.
“I think Snowball will like that one the most.”
“Can’t disappoint Snowball,” he quipped before leaning down to pick up the box. “Fuck, this thing weighs a ton,” he grunted as he maneuvered the box into the cart.
“Do you think it’ll be easy to put together?” Marisol asked. “I’m not good at building things, but my brother-in-law is.”
“I’ll put it together for you.”
“Oh, you don’t?—”
“What else does Snowball need?” Cisco cut her off. He already planned on helping her put the cat’s equipment together, so he didn’t want to hear her protests.
The last things they picked up were a few other furry toys and a food and water dish that could be programmed to feed and water at certain times of the day.
Cisco led them to the front where he started to place everything onto the conveyor belt.
He watched the price skyrocket just after two things and was once again left baffled at how much it cost to raise a spoiled pet.
“The total is four hundred and forty-eight dollars even,” the teenager behind the register said. His eyes lingered a little too long on Marisol, specifically her chest, before Cisco promptly stepped in front of her, glaring.
The boy blushed and quickly looked away.
“Just one second,” Marisol murmured, searching through her purse, but Cisco already had his wallet out and handed over a black card.