“Callmi mujer,” I say next. My woman. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“Hey.” Ryan answers on the third ring.
“Hey yourself.” I can’t help the smile that seeps through my words. “How’s it going?”
“The unpacking? Pretty much all done.”
“Well, don’t overdo it.”
“It’s just some clothes,” she says with a soft laugh.
“Some?” For someone who’s only been here a matter of weeks, she has enough clothes to open her own shop.
“Yeah, okay. Lots. But what was I gonna do? The postholiday sales were too much to resist!”
“Hey, it’s your life. I’m just enjoying being in it.”
“Speaking of being in my life, I still need your bank details.”
A threat? “I’ll get them to you eventually. When I’ve got a minute,” I add, so as not to sound too flippant.
“Matt.” She gives my name a warning tone.
“There’s no great hurry.”
“Maybe not for you. I like to pay my way.”
“And you will,” I say insincerely. “Or you could just keep it—cut out the middleman. I’m only gonna put it into an account for the baby.”
“And that’syourchoice. But I will be paying you rent.” By her tone I can tell she’s trying not to get annoyed. “And while we’re on the topic, I think you should have some paperwork drawn up by your lawyer. I want to reassure you and your family that I’m not out to steal your money.”
“My family would be over the moon if they thought you were. They’re always telling me I have too much of the stuff.”
“Matt,” she growls.
In my mind’s eye, I see her hands balled into fists. My angry little Chihuahua, not that I’d ever say so. I like my balls where they are, thank you very much.
“If you don’t get the details to me soon, it means I’ll have to visit the bank and withdraw cash. And that would be a pain in the ass. You really don’t want to put me through that inconvenience, do you? Braving the Tube and the cold weather, and not to mention the dangers of carrying cash through the city.”
“Feck’s sake,” I mutter. “I’m still trying to recover from the last envelope of cash you left for me.” A light chuckle sounds down the line. She knows she’s got me. “You love to play dirty,” I mutter, my mind instantly bending to the first time I accused her of that. Kissing on the dance floor. Lips soft and eyes full of promise.
Dirty to follow later.
“And like I said before, I prefer the termcreative competitor.”
Her answer is all business and zero teasing. My disappointment feels distinct.
“It would be easier to write you a check, but the bank didn’t give me a checkbook when I registered my account.”
“Checking accounts are pretty old school.”
“Pretty convenient if you ask me. Look, just send me the details, or I might just end up buying more clothes.”
“You might need to yet. Muumuus, I reckon.”
“This baby better not be a giant, or I will never forgive you.”
“What? It’s not my fault I come from good country stock!”
