Page 30 of What About Us
His chuckle is condescending. “Whatever you say, snowflake.”
“Fuck off with that shit.”
He shakes his head with a dry chuckle. “You two are the only best friends I know who act like a couple but reap none of the best benefits.” This asshole uses air quotes, and I’ve never wanted to break someone’s fingers more.
Instead, I scoff. “No, we don’t.”
He tips his head back on a silent chuckle before meeting my gaze again. “The hell you don’t. You make dinner for her?”
“Yeah, so?” Becoming defensive, my shoulders hike closer to my ears.
He sits forward and starts ticking shit off on his fingers as he talks. “So, you live together; you cook for her; you snuggle on the couch like a couple of teenagers; you flirt, fight, bicker and bitch at each other like Mom and Pop; and, apparently, you’re now sleeping in the same bed. Sounds like an old married couple to me.”
“It’s not like that.” I shove my hands onto my hips and glare at him.
“And don’t get me started on you always having a hair tie around your goddamn wrist that just so happens to be big enough for her horse’s mane of hair. You play it off because of Paige, and you’re a good dad, but you can’t honestly expect anyone to believe it’s for her.”
“I donotalways have a hair tie for her.” I scoff.
He lifts his chin in my direction. “Take off your watch.”
I huff a breath out my nose and flip him off, because he’s right. I do keep a hair tie on my wrist for her. I always have.
“You’re not a couple because you aren’t fucking. But you might as well be because you’re already doing everything else.” He tips his coffee back with another smirk that pisses me off.
“How the fuck would you know anything about relationships? When was your last one? Ten, twelve years ago? Last person I remember you being with—other than someone to stick your dick into—was Sarah Kesseler, and you were twenty-two.”
“Yeah, well, we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you.” I know Sarah’s a sore spot for him. Though, he’s never told me—or anyone that I know of—why. Still, I don’t have any sympathy for the bastard when he insists on incessantly goading me.
I clench my jaw and chuck my empty coffee cup into the cold firepit. “Whatever. Are we going to work today, or are you going to Dr. Phil me all fucking day?”
He ignores me and asks, “Why don’t you just move back in with Mom and Pop?”
“And have them both up my ass? No, thanks.”
“You want to build?”
“Maybe,” I bite out and sit back down, bracing my forearms on my knees. “You up for it?”
“Crew’s pretty busy, but if you want to break ground this year, we can make it work.”
I blow out a breath and nod.
“All right, come on,” he says and chucks me a new pair of leather work gloves. I catch them and he calls over his shoulder, “Those will keep you from getting blisters on your pretty, little hands.”
“Piss off,” I say and follow him.
Chapter 11
Hudson
Two days later, Paigeropes me into taking her to the annual Fourth of July Movie in the Park. We’ll head over early and grab some dinner, but we’ve got a couple of hours to kill, so I’ve helped Paige into the bath and settled in to look for houses for rent. Propping myself up against the headboard in my room, I open my laptop and fire it up. The realtor from Bozeman texted this morning—after an apology for contacting me on a holiday—to let me know that two new listings are set to come on the market on in a couple of days, and she didn’t want me to miss out on seeing them first.
I click on the link she gave me and wait for the pictures to load. The first house is an old Victorian a couple of streets over that has a large yard, which would be good for Paige. However, they’re asking a shit ton more than I’m willing to spend on something so old. The second listing isn’t much better. It’s a small, two-bedroom house over on Old Pine Road. It’s been updated, but the yard is trashed and tiny.
Hutch’s idea to build something custom is sounding more and more appealing every day. I need to decide quickly, though. With the elevationhere and the short window for building due to the winter months, if we don’t get started soon, it’ll likely be months before we’d be able to break ground, and over a year for construction.
Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be an issue. But living with Finn for the next nearly two years until the house is finished? I can handle a few months, but two years? There is no fucking way.
