It's sending my thoughts straight to my bedroom. To her splayed out on my black sheets, wearing nothing but those glasses and that tiny turquoise cardigan.
"Brendon?" Her fingers curl around my forearm. Her index finger slips. Traces the lines of my sleeve tattoo. "We can leave later if you have something to do."
Yeah, I do, but it's going to take all fucking day.
Go to my room, take off your dress, sit on the bed and wait for me.
"And delay our three-dollar meatballs?" I force my voice to something light. "I don't think so."
She follows me to the car. Her cheeks flush as she folds her arms over her chest. She tugs at her purse, pulling it closer. "Three dollar meatballs?"
"Ikea."
"Ikea?" Kaylee arches a brow. "Really?"
I nod.
She pushes her blue glasses up her nose. "Why?"
"Three-dollar meatballs are enough of a reason."
"Ew."
"They're good. Try them." I let the back of my hand brush against her arm as I lead her to the car.
She moves around the back and reaches for the passenger-side door. "I'll co
nsider it."
I unlock the car and pull the door open. "You trust me?"
She shoots me a really look as she slides inside. "It has nothing to do with trust."
"Nothing?"
"Yeah, nothing." She clicks her seatbelt. Sets her purse in her lap. Plays with its strap. "No offense, Brendon, but don't you have more money than that?"
I can't help but chuckle. "I'm a humble craftsman."
"With a million-dollar house on the beach. Or, um, I guess I've never asked about your finances."
"Don't. I've got it under control."
Her lip corners turn down. "I... Did my parents offer to help you out?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"I turned them down."
"And you can afford that?"
"Yeah."
She stares at me, those green eyes wide. "If you don't convince me with some numbers, I'm going to start buying groceries. And trying to cook dinner. And no wants that."
My chest warms. Kaylee's a terrible cook. It's the only thing she isn't good at. I nod. "That's horrifying."