I get to my feet. "You know I always do for you."
As we eat, I catch Kaitlyn up with what I’ve been researching for the horse rescue. I appreciate how excited she is about it.
“I can help you put a business plan together. When Knox was trying to write everything out for the stud operation, I helped him a little.”
“That would be great. I’ve called a few horse rescues down south and got some great insight. I made a lot of notes, went to websites they suggested, and already started printing out the forms we’ll need. Having you look it over to make sure it’s presentable and has all of the information your dad and uncles need would be helpful.”
“I’m more than happy to go through what you’ve got. I’d like to chat with my dad about it before June, but I don’t want you to rush either. Is that enough time?”
“That’s in a few weeks and totally doable,” I admit. The smile on my face feels permanent.
After we’ve cleared our plates, Kaitlyn helps me clean up. As I wash the dishes, she dries and puts them away.
"Would you be opposed to some...redecorating?" she asks once we're done.
"Not at all. It's gonna be your house too." I wipe my hands on a towel before hanging it to dry.
"Okay, I'm gonna remember you said that." She smirks.
"Am I gonna regret sayin' that?"
Her mischievous grin tells me everything I need to know. Yes, I am.
“We’ll see,” she sing-songs.
"As long as you don't make it look like an eighteen-year-old's dorm room, I won't care."
She leans against the counter, crossing her arms. "How do you know what a dorm room looks like?"
"I haven't had many relationships, Kate, but I'm not a virgin."
"Alright, so what’s your magic number?"
"My what?"
"Ya know, your body count. The notches on your bedpost. The panties you've kept as souvenirs."
I raise a brow, amused by her ability to blurt out whatever comes to mind. "I think it's time to call it a night, don't you?"
"Payton Jamison!" she barks when I attempt to lead her out of the kitchen. "You aren't dodging this question!"
I'm not afraid of what she'll think, but I don't want to know her number, and if I say mine, she'll share hers.
"It's gettin' late, and we’ve both gotta get up early for work," I explain as I walk toward the front door.
She finally follows me, then narrows her eyes when we face each other. "Don't worry, you'll tell me eventually. I'll get it outta ya," she warns as she puts her shoes on.
"Why do you wanna know so badly anyway?" I fold my arms over my chest.
"You're my future baby daddy. Don't you think we should share those kinds of things?"
"No. I don't need to know your number."
"Don't worry, it's not that impressive," she mumbles.
Thank God is what I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. Relationships are one thing we've never talked much about in our years of being friends. We're close but not share bedroom stories close.
I flick on the porch light, then walk her to her truck.