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Pickles is rolling in a patch of clover when I arrive. She nudges the pink tennis ball with her nose, then licks my ankle.
"You little rascal." I drop to my knees and rub her belly. "You want me to give you pets, don't you? That's why you barked so much?"
Arlo and Rusty hurry over. "Oh my Gosh," Arlo coos, pressing his hand to his heart. "Pickles is the cutest puppy I've ever seen."
Rusty gets on the ground next to me. "Hi, baby girl." He scratches her tummy, then brushes her fur. "You mind if I pet you? I'd like to give you some love."
Pickles nudges the tennis ball toward Rusty, then barks again.
I shake my head in disappointment. "This is her modus operandi. Of course she wants pets."
Over the past few days, I've played more fetch with Pickles than I can recall. We slip out when Daddy gets down to business in his office with his brothers. They're hammering out the details of the warehouse plan and Daddy said I can't be there.
His brothers will throw a fit if they see me sitting in his office discussing things I shouldn't know about.
It's adorable, really. I've occupied myself with playing with Pickles until the big day arrives. All I care about is that Benedetto will rescue Ollie and the rest of the boys and free them from their cages.
Rusty picks up a head of clover and hands it to Pickles. "I wonder if she eats clover." He waves it back and forth in front of her nose. "Try it, girl. Tell Daddy Rusty how it tastes."
Arlo cracks his neck. "That's a new one. I've never heard you refer to yourself asDaddybefore."
Rusty sticks his chin up. "I'm a boy of many stripes. When I'm with my Daddy, he's in control. When I'm with an inferior being such as an adorable puppy who demands pets, I become the Daddy."
"Inferior being." I make a clucking sound. "If Pickles could think, she’d find that mildly offensive."
"You're not inferior, are you, cutie?" Arlo scratches Pickles behind her ears. "Tell Rusty—err, Daddy Rusty—to keep his opinions to himself. You're the smartest girl in the Hamptons."
Pickles licks Arlo's palm, then rolls on her back. She kicks her legs up and demands even more pets.
"This will go on all day if we don't nip it in the bud." I let out a groan as I find myself petting her, which I can't believe I'm doing. "She's so freaking spoiled. Yesterday, I had to rush inside for dinner when Benedetto exited his office. She yapped at my feet and wouldn’t let me leave. When I arrived, his food was cold."
Rusty waggles his eyebrows. "I feel like Benedetto’s an amazing cook."
Arlo nods in agreement. "You can say that again."
I can't help but snort. This afternoon, I asked Benedetto to bake his favorite cookies for my friends. I told him he was an incredible cook and he shouldn't hide his magnificent skills.
He was ecstatic to get to work. Flour flowed everywhere as he mixed the ingredients in a bowl, whipping up a fresh batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. He had a big grin on his face as he pressed his fork into the dough and transferred them to the pan.
When they emerged from the oven, we shared a plate of cookies over a glass of milk. We used the same straws and met in the middle like that Disney movie where the two dogs eat spaghetti. It was the sweetest thing.
"You tasted his cookies this afternoon." I smile proudly. "You know how well he cooks."
"Yeah," Arlo hedges, scratching Pickles, "but those were only cookies. I bet his five-course meals are wonderful."
Rusty lets out a hungry sigh. "I bet he makes a killer pot roast. God, I'd love to try it sometime. You need to invite us over for dinner some night."
It's sweet as hell listening to my friends praise my man.
"I'll pass the compliments onto Benedetto." I pat my friends’ shoulders. "His ex-boyfriend wasn't a fan of his cooking. He'll be thrilled to know you appreciate it."
Rusty nods. "Do I ever. I'm going to have wet dreams about these cookies tonight."
Arlo nudges my ribs. "So what's going on with Benedetto? You broached the subject at our sleepover, but you didn't spill the tea fully. We want to hear everything."
I glance at the walkway behind the tree. "Can we head to the beach and discuss it?" I scratch the back of my head. "I need to feel the ocean breeze ruffle my hair as I speak. Otherwise, I’ll clam up."
Rusty nods. "Let's do it."
