Page 108 of Dream House
Lark runs a hand over his mouth and visibly composes himself. After a moment he croaks, “Good day?”
And I can’t help my grin.
“Great day.”
He nods.
“You?”
He carries on nodding, a secret smile taking over. “Not as good as my night, but I’ve got no complaints.”
Memories of last night hijack my body. I’m all thumping heart and fluttering insides.
“You didn’t drive to school today,” I observe, wanting to steer us toward less stimulating territory.
“Nope. I walked.”
“It’s a nice day.”
Lark shrugs. “I needed to work off some energy.”
His pointed look sets me off again. My body responds like he’s flipped a switch. It’s all I can do not to drop the butter knife I’m holding and move to him.
It’s a good thing Maisy’s here. I have no idea what we’re doing, no idea where this could possibly lead. I’ve kept my promise about not avoiding him, but now I have to keep my head. I have responsibilities.
A lot of responsibilities.
And he’s still in college, for Christ’s sake.
I straighten my spine and grab this conversation by the horns. “So, I kind of went spreadsheet crazy.”
Interest replaces that look of innuendo in his eyes, and I’d be lying if I said I am not both relieved and crestfallen.
“Do tell.”
I point him to my laptop that’s now on the kitchen table and finish making Maisy’s snack. Lark pulls out a chair.
“Hi Bark.”
“Woof.”
I turn in time to see Maisy go slack with giggles, but Lark has pulled the laptop to him, pretending he didn’t just bark at my daughter.
It’s beyond adorable.
He pours over my spreadsheets, asking a question here or there. Can I get salon equipment and supplies wholesale?Yes.Will I be able to retain my current clients?Hopefully.
“What about health insurance?” he asks, frowning.
I roll my eyes, taking my spot at the end of the table, closer to him and out of range of Maisy’s Paw Patrol rounds. “Now that I’m not paying rent, it’s my biggest expense.”
Lark frowns. “So, your employer doesn’t pay for that?”
I snort. “I’m considered a contract worker. No group coverage.”
His frown lowers. “What about Tyler? Do you cover him.”
“Medicaid,” I say, shaking my head. “And my Dad takes care of what that doesn’t cover for him.”
