Page 97 of Pickled
“You can paint every damn surface in that house if you want. Olive can even do hers bright pink.”
Olive squealed and clapped her hands. “Gideon, you’re forgetting the best part!”
His face went slightly pale. “There’s one more thing.”
Something in his tone made my stomach flip. “What?”
“It might be chaotic for the first few weeks. You know, adjusting to living together…”
“I can handle chaos. It’s the cat situation I’m worried about.”
He rubbed the back of his neck—his nervous tell. “Your daughter drives a hard bargain.”
“Gideon?”
He reached over and took the puppy from Goldie’s arms, holding the wiggling furball between us, shielding me from what he was about to say.
“Olive only agreed to move in with us if we got a dog.”
The puppy chose that moment to lick Gideon’s nose. He winced and wiped his face with his hand. I took the puppy and squeezed him tightly. “Well, I guess it’s welcome to the family, little guy.” I kissed its fluffy head.
Olive squealed, and I swore that a tear dropped from Ace’s eye.
Gideon held my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “Now, I have one condition.”
“What’s that?” I buried my face in the puppy’s fur, inhaling his puppy scent.
“Olive doesn’t get to name the dog.”
Olive shrugged. The rest of us, the ones who got the joke, broke out into laughter. It was easily one of the best moments of my life.
We’d lost the tournament last year, in the worst way possible. But sitting here now, with my new found family, this was what winning looked like.
