Page 51 of Mended Hearts

“Name one person better suited to care for them.”

Leighton scowled, like the concept insulted her.

“See?I rest my case. You’re the logical answer. You need a steady job, and I need—wellMary Poppins. But shy of a magical bag and flying umbrella, you’re the closest embodiment. Hell, even your objections come in the form of children’s stories.”

“Hazards of a big family.” She bobbed her head, and I resisted the need to laugh.

“Regardless.”

“Okay, I?—”

“What? Wait, are you saying yes?”

“No. Not yet,” she cut me off, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Yetis good. I can work with yet. Now, what’s your concern?”

“Ollie…” she chastised, like I should already understand. “Even if I felt qualified—which I don’t—I cannot in good conscience live with you.”

“I don’t follow.”

She laughed—the sound light and glittering like an entirely different person than the woman digging in her heels this morning. She felt likemyLeighton. I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips.

“Look, this whole ‘friend’ thing is a stretch for me on my best days. A girl can only show so much restraint.”

I was suddenly incredibly relieved that I’d lucked out being born into a featherless species, because if I had, I would absolutely be preening.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she demanded, shoving a hand against my chest. Yep. Definitely preening.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna jump my bones.”

“Leigh, just because our circumstances aren’t conducive to continuing where we left off… don’t kid yourself into thinking I don’t dream about it on a daily basis.”

“Daily?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Daily.”

“See? This—I—you—we?—”

“Very good,” I teased. “That was almost sentence-adjacent.”

She narrowed her eyes as I parroted her words from Halloween. With a flustered huff that painted her cheeks pink, she snapped, “It’s not conducive to the whole ‘come work for me’ debacle, and it’s entirely reinforcing that under absolutely no circumstances can I sleep under the same roof as the man with my v-card in his wallet and a smile likethat.” She gestured violently toward my face. “Do you have any idea what ovulation does to a woman’s common sense?”

I just grinned wider. “Okay. So. What if you keep your condo?”

“What do you mean? How the hell would that work?”

“It’d make for longer days. I leave for work around seven-thirty—eight at the latest. If you can be there by seven-fifteen, I don’t see a problem. I’ll increase your salary to account for rent.”

“First of all, that’s wildly unnecessary. And… purely hypothetical here, what would that—again,entirely hypothetical—salary be?”

“I had Oaklyn at a hundred and sixty thousand a year, paid monthly, plus benefits.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she squeaked, her eyes practically bugging out.

Glowering, I shook my head. “I am not kidding you. I’ll adjust to account for housing, of course, but if you need more?—”

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