Page 10 of The Rebound
“Awesome.” She sighs in relief. Looking toward the kitchen, she chews on her lower lip. “I don’t actually have a lot to work with here. My grocery order doesn’t come until tomorrow ... Do you like broccoli?”
I nod. “I do like broccoli, but I have a better idea. Why don’t we move this party to my place?”
It’s a phrase I’ve said in many bars to many women, and I only realize the implication once the words are hanging in the air between us like a swarm of red flags. The last thing I want is for Kinley to think I’m some creep.
Backpedaling, I lift my hands in the air. “I, uh, went grocery shopping a couple days ago, so you’ll have more ingredients to work with than just broccoli. That is, if you’re okay with that scenario?”
Smooth save, Saint. But if Kinley suspects anything, she certainly isn’t giving any indication.
Smiling innocently at me, she shrugs. “I think that would be best.”
Well, damn. Guess I’m taking a pregnant lady home with me.
That’s a first.
I guess the new Saint is having lots of firsts lately.
4
KINLEY
Saint’s place is nice. Like,reallynice. And I’m not just saying that because I’ve been stepping around half-unpacked moving boxes for the past week. No, his condo looks like a page torn out of a minimalist interior design magazine.
Everything is monochromatic and clean, satisfying the undiagnosed OCD in me immediately. And since the layout of our condos is almost identical, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m actively taking mental notes on how to arrange my own place. His living room holds a large navy sectional that faces the windows, and his round dining table fits perfectly into the nook off the kitchen. Three upholstered bar stools are lined up at the island.
“Shoes off?” I ask, not wanting to track any dirt onto his sparkling floors.
“Whatever’s more comfortable for you.” But he kicks his shoes off, so I follow suit.
“Did you design all of this?” I gesture to the space.
Saint grins and scratches the back of his head. “Yes and no. Don’t laugh, but my mom is an interior designer. She personally hates this style, but I stole a few ideas from her over the years and adapted them to better suit me and my preferences.”
“It’s beautiful. You must have a good job to afford all of this.”
He nods a little reluctantly. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing the same grind for the past four years and it’s paid off. How about you? What do you do to afford all that broccoli?”
I chuckle. “Don’t act like you didn’t pay for my broccoli too. I do just fine. I’m a freelance digital marketer with a focus on brand creation.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Sounds fancy.”
“It’s good enough for now,” I say before looking down at my belly. “Once this guy is out and about, I’m going to have to decrease my hours in order to take care of him. No more twelve-hour days on the phone with clients.”
“My schedule is really flexible during the summer,” Saint says, and I almost think he’s bragging until he says, “so if you need any help running errands or whatever, I’m your man.”
I’m your man.The phrase would make me blush if it weren’t so innocently delivered. His kindness has been unexpected, but also very appreciated.
“I appreciate that more than you know.” I’m about to ask him what it is that he does for a living that gives him that kind of flexibility, but he waves me into the kitchen.
Just like the rest of his condo, every appliance is in pristine condition. The espresso machine in the corner catches my eye, and all other thoughts dissolve into a massive craving for coffee.
Saint follows my line of sight. “You want some coffee?”
“No, I’m off caffeine right now. Hence all the naps.”
“I could make decaf.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I’d better not. It’ll just confuse my body.”
