"We're not talking about you moving a couch, Grey--you're reassembling my house."
"I know. What else you got?"
"Youhaveto let me pay you."
"Fine. But not with money." I hear it when I say it and clear my throat. "It's not about the money, Molly. You can pay for supplies. You can learn how to take care of the house on your own. Because beyond the daily dangers of living in this hazard zone, if you don't fix some of these things real soon, they're going to become bigger problems, like the leaky sink rotting your subfloors. I'm begging you--please, let me help."
Her arms are folded and her eyes narrowed, but I see the wheels going behind them. "Can I cook for you?"
I frown. "I mean, if you want to."
"What I want is to give you money, .But if I can pay you in food so you don't have to eat frozen burritos every night? Well, that feels like it could enhance your life a little, since you're improving mine so much. The guys were talking about it the other night," she adds when I open my mouth to ask. "I love cooking, but cooking for one is so depressing. So, let me cook for you. I won't say we can call it square because it's decidedlynot, but I can agree to that. For now. But I reserve the right to renegotiate."
"Deal." I walk across the kitchen and extend my hand for a shake.
When she puts her delicate hand in mine, I realize it's the first time we've deliberately touched. My hand almost envelopshers, so small and gentle and soft. Her face is so determined, I feel like I just won a major award convincing her.
And I don't take the feeling for granted.
CHAPTER 11
STUDS AND SCREWS
MOLLY
Grey looks both smug and relieved as we shake on our deal.
"Now, go put pants on like I asked."
"You didn't ask," I note, but turn for my room.
He harumphs, but I hear him bustle about in the kitchen while I change.
What a weird, wonderful morning.
I mean, I could have done without the puking, but I woke up to a shirtless wolf daddy in my living room. Good freaking god, the man is so well built--abs for days, tan skin, a dark dusting of chest hair. He even has those lines, the ones above his hip bones that angled down into the waistband of his jeans.
If all that is in thanks to his protein burritos, I hope I haven't made a terrible mistake in offering to feed him.
Not gonna lie--I'm a little sad he slept with pants on, but I'll count my blessings where I get them. And then he went about, taking care of things. Like breakfast. The trash. Washing pans. Usually when people do things for me, like my parents, I feel condescended. But Grey makes me feel… I don't know. Like he'snot taking care of things because I'm a baby, but because I'm a princess.
I don't hate it. Not one little bit. Like, the patriarchy is so strong, the sight of a big, bearded, muscly man with the neck of a trash bag in his fist drenched my drawers. Flooded my basement. Nuked my knickers.
God, I wish I wasn't a stupid virgin and could fool around with him. I'd just embarrass myself. Assuming he'd even be interested. Which, other than his penchant for fixing things, he's shown no clear sign of. Not clear to me, at least. Maybe a little? Or did I imagine it because I have a little crush on him?
Who knows. Not me. I have literally no idea what I'm doing. I've read books. I've watched my share of porn. I've seen Euphoria. I'm not afraid of sex—it's the execution part I'm iffy on.
Since we're working on the house today, I put on a pair of Cass's leggings, a tee, and a Rambler's sweatshirt, pulling on a pair of tennies. My phone is stacked with messages, and I take a minute to let Cass, Carlin and Mom know I’m alive and well before I’m on my way out. Thankfully, I catch a glimpse of myself--my hair is insane. I can't believe I just had that whole conversation and breakfast with him with my hair looking like I came in from a tornado. All it's missing is a couple of sticks.
Finally ready, I meet Grey in the living room, grabbing the doorknob. It doesn't open easy, and I have to use a second hand to unjam it.
"Burglar bait," he says as he passes.
It--of course--won't close and.Annoyed, I pull too hard, splintering the frame. But it's shut. I smile, gesturing to it.
"See? Fixed."
He shakes his head, but his eyes twinkle a little.
