She crossed her legs. The flannel made a whisper of a sound that his body responded to as if she were wearing a see-through lace nightie.
“I’m not adding whether he bought me dinner, that’s insane.”
Right. That would be the insane part of the spreadsheet dating system.
“The man pays for the meal.” Didn’t everyone know this?
Velma scrunched up her forehead. “That’s sexist.”
“It’s life. Add that to a column and do your algorithm-whatever so it’s weighted heavier than the 401(k) bullshit.” Brek settled his elbows on a red placemat she’d laid out earlier. It also matched the freaking curtains and the chairs. “What are the pros from tonight?”
“He has a job.”
Brek chuckled. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Employment is a good thing.”
“What about last night’s date?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” As she typed, she ran the tip of her pink tongue along her bottom lip.
He ignored the desire to do the same. To her.
“Two. Ouch. Poor guy didn’t even have a job?” Brek pointed to the row above.
“Nope.” She shrugged.
Brek snagged the box of partially folded invitations from the table and headed for the couch. “Wanna catch a couple episodes ofDeadwith me?”
“Dead?” she asked.
“TheWalking Dead.” He concentrated on the slight dimple he had never noticed before at the tip of her nose.
“I’m not into zombies.” She turned off her computer and slipped it into a padded black case. “You go ahead.”
“They’re not real,” he said, the vanilla liquid sloshing against the sides of his mixer bottle. “C’mon, we’ll cuddle if you get scared.”
“I’m not cuddling with you.”
He shrugged. “Your loss. You can help me fold invitations.”
“What the heck happened to those?” Velma stared at the mess of gold-foiled cardstock he’d tied pink ribbons around earlier. Tried to tie ribbons around. His hands weren’t exactly made for ribbon tying. He’d come up with a sticker system that seemed to work okay. Forget about the tissue-paper envelopes they were supposed to slide into before the mailing envelopes. Who the hell needed two envelopes? Especially with thin-ass paper that wrinkled whenever he breathed?
Her eyebrows fell together. “Are these Claire’s? They’re all crumpled.”
So maybe a couple had suffered collateral damage while he figured shit out.
Velma bit at her bottom lip. “Let me help.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He sauntered to the couch and flipped on the television. “And the show’s good. Way better than that crap you put on with dudes singing about their feelings.”
“Musicals are cultured.” Frilly blanket over her lap, she made herself comfortable on the other side of the white leather sofa.
“Eh.” Brek brought up the next episode. The start of the third season. “This,thisis good stuff.”
Stack of invitations in hand, she tied the silk around one without any issue.
The damn paper didn’t crumple at all. “How’d you do that?”
