"—can't just rely on Ron holding her in his lap for multiple days, Caine." My hands plant firmly on my hips as I stare up at the immovable wall of muscle and tattoos before me. His cologne ad smell is doing a serious number on my rational thought, but I'm holding firm on the argument we've been having for about fifteen minutes. "Bun needs a car seat."
Everything's ready to go. Jack-Eye and Andrew are only ten minutes out. Lyre and Owen haven't emerged from Archie and Doris's camper.
The only thing holding us back is what we're doing with Sadie—if anything—and the issue of Bun's car seat. I'm trying not to think about the former. If I do, I'll end up submitting beneath the guilt and trying to figure out how we're going to raise a dog around wolves.
Seriously. Imagine going to Blue Mountain with a dog in tow. A dog. She might actually get torn apart.
A muscle twitches in Caine's cheek. "We made it here without one."
