Page 35 of Gold Rush

“Say it, Kensington.”

“To us.”

His smile grows, the corners of his brown eyes creasing. I normally consider brown to be a rather boring color. But Flynn’s eyes are very expressive. Even on the rare occasions he’s silent, it’s easy to guess his mood by looking at them.

There’s a sudden fluttering in my chest as our gazes meet and hold.

And it occurs to me—me, who thinks of everything—that this arrangement could be a bad idea for reasons I didn’t originally consider.

11

Rory drops her sandwich on her plate and reaches for a napkin. She uses it to mop up the dressing that dripped down her hand, then immediately picks the Reuben back up and takes another huge bite.

“When did you last eat?” I ask, amused by her hurry to inhale her lunch.

Normally, I’d say she was in a rush to get away from me, but Rory suggested this and set it up. So, it seems like she’s just starving.

“I had oatmeal for breakfast,” she tells me after taking a sip of soda.

My nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“Because it’s healthy and nutritious. And easy to make. I was in a rush to get to Pilates.”

“You should have stopped for a doughnut on your way here.”

“Let me guess. That’s what you did?”

“Yep,” I confirm cheerfully. “I had three actually.”

“I have no idea how you look like that.”

“Like what, Florence?” I tease because I believe there was a compliment buried beneath that fried-food judgment.

“Enough small talk,” she states.

“I didn’t realize your idea of small talk was calling me hot.”

“I don’t have all day, Flynn. If we’re really doing this, we need a plan.”

“Agreed.” I wipe my mouth, then ball up the napkin. “Starting with me moving in.”

“Starting with you—what? Why?”

“Because cohabitating is common practice for couples in serious and loving relationships who only have sex with each other. Also, because I need somewhere to live.”

I swallow some Coke, enjoying watching Rory process this. She’s still incredulous.

“Didn’t you sign a lease when you moved back to New York?”

I nod. “I did. It’s an awesome apartment too. So awesome and so in demand that they agreed not to penalize me for breaking the lease, as long as I move out by August 1.”

“August 1? That’s …”

“Tomorrow, yeah. So, a quick decision would be appreciated. I’ve already moved my furniture into a storage unit. It would mostly be clothes … and me.”

“I—why can’t you stay where you are?”

I sigh. “I can’t afford it. And, before you bring up poor financial planning, I was expecting to receive my trust fund any day. With it, my current place would have been totally reasonable. On my salary alone, it’s not.”