CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
COLT
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Riley takes the second emergency contraceptive the next morning with breakfast. The second this week.
I’m worried it’s not good for her, but the pharmacist said it’s fine. That she might have some side effects like nausea and headaches, which explains why she is experiencing bad jetlag. It’s probably a mix of flying across the world and the first dose.
Even my own equilibrium is a little off, but not as bad.
She slides the giant box of condoms towards me. “I’ve done my part twice, Big Boy, now it’s your turn.”
“Trust me, I’m not going to forget.”
You need to start using condoms unless you want us to start having little babies.
I lost ten years off my life when I heard those words. Jesus, could you imagine how that would change fucking everything.
We made the most of it, though.
After condom-gate, we ordered some food delivery and spent the afternoon making love on a lot of different surfaces in the house. I told her it was better exercise than a walk in the park.
I wasn’t wrong.
Today, though, we’re heading down to Central Park, and Riley is very excited. Wait until she sees the surprise I have for her.
Today she wears a short dress with tights underneath and a cream cotton knit sweater. Winter is over, spring is here, but it’s still cool out.
“Do you have a jacket?”
“Google said it was spring.”
“Goog—okay, no. You’ll need more layers. You’ve just come from summer in Australia. We’ll get you a coat.” I climb off the chair and get my phone and wallet. “Saks 5th Avenue, here we come.”
“Don’t you have Kmart? That will do. I don’t need a fancy jacket for a week.”
I don’t consider myself a snob, but I grew up the sole child of two anesthesiologists. I’ve never been in a Walmart.
I don’t share that piece of information.
Instead, I pretend to consider it, then say, “Saks is closer.”
“Fine, but I’m going to go through that money pretty fast if I shop there every time you decide I need something.” Riley mumbles.
That she assumes I’m going to let her pay for it is insane. She’s definitely different from any other woman I know.
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AN HOUR LATER, I’m leaning on the wall outside her changing room, listening to her mutter about the prices, spending significantly more time than is necessary on one damn coat.
We need to speed this up.
“Riley. It’s a coat. Come on.”
The door rips open. “Three thousand bloody dollars. I will have to wear it until I’m seventy to get my money’s worth.”
Christ.
I’ve made one hundred times that in the time we’ve been in the store. Another fact I need to keep to myself.
“My money’s worth. I’ve paid for that one already, so just put it on and let’s go. The next ice age is coming.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Well, at least I’ll be prepared. At this price, it must have some NASA type technology to keep me alive. Sorry for the rest of you.”
She slides into it, gives me a look, and strides past me.
I grin.
Life is not boring with this girl in my life, and I have never been happier.
I nod at the server to put the sale through on my account—because I lied—while she removes the security tag for Riley.
They know me. I shop here frequently for menswear, gifts for Mom and friends.
Taking Riley’s hand, I lead her outside and tug up her zipper. “Warm?”
“Yes, but I could’ve been warm for fifty-nine dollars.” She tiptoes up and kisses me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go adventuring.”
I have no idea if Riley knows about Conservatory Garden. If not, she’s going to love this surprise.
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MY DRIVER TAKES us up to the Vanderbilt Gate in Central Park, while my little tourist tells me all the ways we could’ve accessed the park instead.
“It may surprise you, but I know my way around this place.” I clasp a hand around Riley’s mouth and tell James, my driver, who, despite being paid by me, thinks she’s in charge.
Giggles and a wet tongue has me lifting my hand.
“But I’m right.”
I replace my hand and chuckle as we pull up to the curb. Riley is so focused on torturing me, she doesn’t notice where we are.
I lift my hand, kiss her naughty mouth, then whisper. “Look behind you, little gardener.”
The driver opens the door, and I nudge her out with a pat on her behind.
“What is this?”
Guiding her further in, I watch her eyes pop out of her head.
“Colt. What is this? How can...oh, my god. Tulips. Is that a cherry blossom tree?”
I’m about to blow her mind.
This time without my cock.
Taking her hand, I turn into a tour guide. “Welcome to Conservatory Garden. There are three distinct areas: the French-style north garden, the Italian garden, and the English style south garden. What would you like to see first?
Riley does a little skip on the spot.
“All of it. Oh my god, this is the best surprise ever.”
She takes off, tugging me along.
“Here I was thinking I was the prize of the week.”
She laughs but doesn’t correct me.
I think I just fell in love.