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“Sixty seconds?” The horror in Gunner’s voice was palpable.
Chas laughed aloud. “Oh man. Breaking you into parenthood is gonna be fun.”
“You can fuck all the way off,” Gunner muttered.
“Language,” Chas said mildly, his attention on the shelves beside them. “Diapers. Let’s see. Do we go for the twelve-to-eighteen-months size or the eighteen-to-twenty-four months size?”
“Just get them both,” Gunner grumbled, clearly disgruntled at Chas’s amusement.
“I think the smaller size. She’s actually fairly petite. Bottles, pacifier—I don’t know if she uses one, but it could help keep her quiet in a pinch—baby wipes, lotion, bib, sippy cup, bowl, spoon, baby bag.”
“Why do we need one of those bags?” Gunner demanded.
“Have you seen all the gear we’re buying?” Chas argued. When Gunner continued to look skeptical of the pink polka-dotted bag in the grocery cart, he added, “Think of all the guns you can hide inside it.”
Gunner looked mollified at that.
Chas pulled out his cell phone and did a quick internet search.
“What are you looking up?” Gunner asked suspiciously.
“What foods kids this age eat.” He read from a list. “Finger foods. Avoid added sugar and salt. No artificial colors or preservatives. Oh, interesting. She should still drink milk or toddler formula. See if you can find that, Gunner.”
“What the hell does that look like?”
“Amateur. It’ll be a container of dried powder. Bigger than a soup can and smaller than a coffee can.”
“Here’s infant formula,” Gunner announced.
“Great. Now look for a picture of a kid about Poppy’s age on one of those containers.”
“I’m not a complete moron.”
Chas grinned. “Had me fooled there for a minute.” As Gunner opened his mouth, he added, “And you don’t have to tell me to fuck off again. I already got that memo.”
A mother with a little boy about Poppy’s age was passing by and threw him a dirty look. “Sorry,” he mumbled guiltily.
Gunner grinned. “Hah. Busted.”
Chas glared at Gunner. “I’m picking out the girliest clothes for her I can find so you’ll have to carry around a kid decked out in pink lace and bows.”
“Hey. I have nothing against girls.”
“Yeah, except sleeping with them,” Chas added under his breath.
“I’ve slept with plenty of women, thank you very much,” Gunner declared.
The mom with the kid was passing by again and threw Gunner the dirty look this time. Chas slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the laughter as Gunner glared at him.
“How many outfits, do you think?” Chas asked Gunner.
“Not many. I’m getting rid of her at the first opportunity.”
“Six, maybe?” Chas picked out a couple of dresses, some rompers, matching stretch pants and shirts, a one-piece winter snowsuit, and an adorable pink pajama onesie with a hood, bunny ears, and a fluff-ball tail on the butt.
Gunner eyed the armload of clothes. “That looks like serious overkill.”
“She may go through several outfits a day. Little kids make messes all the time.”