Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter Fifty-two

You were meeting Chris at his house for dinner. Since he was hosting, you offered to hit up the store for something to eat. It was a fair trade. While you hurried through the grocery, Archie kept your car safe. Sure Archie's version of protecting your other baby was him stretching out along the back seat and napping, but the Jeep was still there when you came back so, good job, Archie.

Archie knew where he was going, even though you were a few turns and blocks away. He perked up in his seat beside you, his tail thumping against the seat well before you pulled to the curb near Chris' house. Across the street, you set down your shopping bags and scooped up Archie, holding him up between you and the camera when you pressed the buzzer at Chris' gate. From the speaker, you heard Chris' boisterous laugh. The gate lock clicked open and you pushed it open for Archie to scramble into the front yard.

Ahead of you, the door to the house opened and Chris appeared, crouching down to meet Archie. You made your way up the walk and Chris gave Archie's side a few good pats. He stood up and smiled at you, while Archie circled around his knees.

"Good job, buddy," he praised. "You brought company."

"And food," you pointed out, raising the shopping bags up high.

"And food," Chris repeated, sounding impressed and giving Archie's head a thorough rub. "You are a good dog."

"Admit it," you smirked, "you only invited me over to see my dog."

"Gah!" he groaned, leaning back and grabbing his chest. "She figured us out, Archie."

"Busted," you tutted, waving him on to go inside the house.

Archie rushed in ahead of you both. Chris shut the door behind you and gave you a playful swat, as you went by. He followed you into the kitchen, taking off Archie's leash and opening up a door to the yard for him. You put the groceries on the island and emptied your other hand of your keys and phone. By the time you had sorted your foodstuffs out onto the counter, Chris had filled up a bowl of water for your dog.

"What's for dinner?" Chris asked, pecking a kiss to your cheek before he put Archie's water down at the end of the island. 

"Low-cal Caesar salad, turkey burgers, and this orecchiette pasta salad I think you'll like," you told him, eyeing over the items in front of you and hoping you didn't forget anything. 

There was a pause, before Chris looked up at you from the pile of food on the countertop. "Turkey burgers and low-cal Caesar salad?" His brow creased down and nose wrinkled up. "First of all, is that even a thing? And second, turkey burgers? When you said 'let's grill out', I'm thinkin', like, you know, steak; real burgers. Like, I just killed this cow, let's put it over a fire. Not this-"

"Rabbit food?" you finished for him.

His brow rose and he shrugged. "Well, yeah," he snorted and he shook his head. "Are you- Can I ask, are you on a diet or something?"

You stopped, putting the small box of cherry tomatoes in one hand and the container of grated Parmesan cheese in the other back down on the counter, giving him a frown and cock of your head. "Christopher Robert," you chided him. "Really? And, no, you can not ask a girl that."

Chris raised his hands in surrender and you shook your head at him, with a small grin pursing your lips. "I'm just sayin'."

"I've got that mud run coming up in less than two months," you reminded him. "After all that rich food and dinners out on the press tour, I have got to start being a better human being." Putting aside ingredients into sperate piles by recipe, you pointed at him and added, "It couldn't hurt you either."