“I’m not charging you.”
“You have to charge me rent,” I scoff.
Challenge fills his gaze. “Do I, now?” he says in a tone that sends a shiver down my back.
Hot. Why was that hot? What’s wrong with me?
“Stay here until the end of the season and save money.”
My brain doesn’t know how to comprehend this. People aren’t generous like this. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “I want you living in a place that has working smoke detectors? Your dad would too, if he knew.”
I should probably be pissed that he’s bringing my dad into this, but my mind just snags on him sayingI want you.
That’s not how he meant it, but that’s how I hear it.
“You can use the Adventure Car whenever you need,” he continues. “Drive yourself to the arena every day. I’ll drive my other car.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We use it on some weekends if we go camping or off-roading, but we don’t do much of that in the winter. I usually take Bea skiing or skating or hiking or something if we want to spend time outside.”
“No.” I hold a hand up. “What did you call the car?”
A pause. “The Adventure Car.”
I press my lips together.
“What?” he asks, but he’s smiling.
“Adventure Car? Oh my god.” I’m trying so, so hard not to smile. “You are such a dorky dad.”
Yeah, right. Tate Ward couldn’t be a dorky dad if he tried. Just look at those forearms. Dorky dads don’t have tattoos on their chest like he does.
He looks affronted, but he’s grinning. “I benched three hundred this morning.”
I’ll bet he did, with what I saw.
“Dork.” I fold my arms. “You should call your car the Dad Mobile.”
“Unbelievable.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “I offer you free room and board and you repay me by bullying me.”
I’m full-out grinning now, and our eyes linger on each other. A funny feeling flips in my stomach, like everything turns over once, slowly and deliciously. I look away, breaking the moment.
My brain says, find a place to live that isn’t his. Stand on your own two feet and do not accept help.
I could stay with Georgia until I find a place to live, but I’ve seen how they act at home and it’s even handsier than in public. No thanks.
I could try to find something short-term near the arena, even if it is with a roommate, but my mind flashes back to the roommate I had in first year university, who played music at all hours of the night, constantly clogged the bathroom drain with her hair, and ate my peanut butter.
No roommates. Georgia’s the only person I can fathom living with and she’s off the table.
I could save money if I lived here, and if he decides to renege on his offer early, I’d have savings to find a place on short notice, even if it is expensive.
And it’s so, so nice. That bed. Goddamn. The wood stove. The view.
“Consider it added incentive to keep up your end of the deal,” he adds.
