“When am I going to meet this woman you’ve been seeing?”

All eyes turn to me. “She’s just my friend.”

My mom pouts as she shrugs her shoulders. “Friends still need to eat.”

“Abby’s met her. She’ll tell you, Finley can be shy.”

Abby lifts her napkin to wipe her mouth before agreeing with me. “She is, Mom. And a bit of a homebody.”

My mother ignores both of us. “I want to meet her.”

I decide the only way to get her to focus on something else is to change the subject. “Is Asher coming?”

It’s my dad who answers. “He didn’t say no.”

My younger brother tries to come to our family dinners but has a habit of getting caught up in his work and losing track of time.

Everyone else is here, including Brooke and the kids. Whether that means she’s moved back in with Eli, I don’t know.

“Have you asked her if she’d like to come?” Gideon, being ever helpful brings the conversation back to Finley.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I mentioned Mom wanted to meet her.”

“And she didn’t want to meet me?” My mom asks, pressing her hand to her chest.

Not the reaction I was expecting.

“No, Mom. It wasn’t like that. She got nervous so I dropped it,” I explain.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Eli mutters.

“Can we talk about something else?” I plead.

“Yes,” Abby replies, then focuses her attention on the kids. “Are you guys ready for school to start?”

In unison, they groan, making the rest of us laugh.

Happy the focus is no longer on me, I watch my mom head to the kitchen and follow her.

“Need any help?” I ask from the door.

She turns, her hands on her hips. “She must be a good influence. You don’t normally offer to help me cook.”

“Mom,” I warn.

She waves me over and motions for me to lean down so she can kiss my cheek. “I’ll stop. I only push because I love you.”

“I love you too Mom,” I murmur, straightening.

Her face softens, and then she puts me to work.

“Are you going to her house after dinner?” Eli asks during a conversation lull at dinner.

“Yes,” I reply, leaving it at that.

“What are you going to do when her house is finished?” He keeps going.

As I glare at him, Abby answers. “They’re friends, E.”

“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes on my older brother.

He frowns but doesn’t answer me.

“Abby said she’s hot,” Gideon ventures into the conversation.

Abby, who’s sitting to my right huffs, “I said beautiful.”

“A woman calls another woman beautiful means a guy would call her hot,” Gideon explains.

I can’t fault his logic until he adds, “maybe I should swing by her place to see if she needs any landscaping.”

He stops laughing at his joke when I catch his eye.

He lifts his hands, his smile still wide. “Still not into sharing your toys, I see.”

Abby’s lip curls in disgust. “Please tell me you did not just imply women are toys.”

He gives her a weak smile. Our sister has no fear, he might be seven inches taller than her but she’ll still kick his ass because she fights dirty.

Brandishing her index finger like a sword she points at him. “Take it back and apologize to womankind.”

His face remains turned to hers but he chances a side-glance to our mother. Gideon has gotten away with a lot over the years because he was the baby of the family. Insulting women appears to be an exception to this rule when he notices our mom’s face.

With an aggravated sigh he grumbles, “I take it back and apologize for saying it in the first place.” He then gives Abby his best impression of puppy dog eyes and asks, “Still love me?”

Abby pulls back her hand. “Yes, though I question my sanity for it.”

Thankfully, my relationship with Finley doesn’t come up again for the rest of dinner. That streak ends not long after when I try to make my goodbyes.

“Hurry back to her like a good little dog,” Eli sneers.

I look up at the ceiling in the hopes of finding some patience up there. All I see is my parents’ ceiling could use a fresh coat of paint.

I look back down at Eli and ask, “Why is it such a big deal where I spend my time?”

“She’s using you and you don’t even care,” he snaps.

I drag my hand down my face, so sick of not only his assumptions about her but also the fact that he doesn’t think I can take care of myself.

“She’s not like that,” Abby argues before I can.

I rest my hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “No point trying to talk sense into him. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m leaving.”

“Noah, don’t let some chick lead you around by your dick,” Eli grumbles.

He may have meant for only me to hear it but his voice carried with his emotion.

We all turn at Brooke’s gasp. Her gaze is on Elijah, a pained expression in them.

“Come on kids,” she murmurs, turning to usher the kids out of the room.

“Brooke,” Eli, groans, following her.

She doesn’t stop though, and when he reaches her she shakes off his hold.

“Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

I shake my head. “Guess it comes natural.”

Abby turns to give me a hug. “Sorry bro.”

I kiss the top of her head. “You should swing by Finley’s place sometime soon. You won’t recognize it.”

“I might. She texted me some pictures yesterday.”

I let her go, shouting a goodbye to our folks. “Pictures don’t do it justice. Stop over, okay?”

She nods and promises to come by.

Once I’m in my truck I text Finley to let her know I’m on my way. During my drive, Eli’s words replay in my head. I know Finley isn’t using me. That doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered what will happen to our friendship once the work to her house is done.

I’ve been using her house as the excuse to see her. Once that excuse is gone, where will I be? Granted, the work to her house won’t be done anytime soon, and when it is I can always talk her into building a garage.

When I park in front of her place, I sit in my truck for a minute to look at it. The lights are on in both of the front rooms.

She needs curtains or blinds, you can see right in. She’s not in either room. If I had to guess, she’s in her kitchen. Ever since we put her appliances in, she’s been obsessed.

No more takeout dinners for either of us, she’s been cooking up a storm. Knowing that, it’s sad to see her dining room empty. She should be throwing dinner parties, not just cooking for me.

I climb down from my truck and skip the front door to go knock on her kitchen door.

“Something smells good,” I greet when she lets me in.

“I made brownies,” she smiles. “How was dinner with the family?”

She’s watching me more closely than normal so I ask, “Did Abby talk to you?”

Her eyes widen before she quickly averts them.

I close the door behind me and lean back against it. “Dinner had its moments.”

Her gaze moves back to mine. “Abby called.”

I nod. “I figured she would.”

“Why does your brother hate me?”

Pushing off of the door I close the distance between us. “He’s over protective and going through shit so he needs to put attention on someone else, right now that happens to be me.”

“It’s my fault for not coming tonight, isn’t it?”

I had invited her. When she found out everyone was coming she got nervous so I told her not to worry about it.

“This isn’t your fault.”

She nods but doesn’t look convinced.

“Let me worry about my family.”

She frowns then straightens. “I’d like to meet your mom.”

I laugh at her expression. “You look like you’d rather have a root canal.”

That has her cracking a smile and I decide to change the subject. “You need curtains.”

She blinks. “I do?”

I nod. “You can see right into the house.”

I bite back a laugh when she ducks and screeches. “Right now?!”

I reach for her hand. “Let’s go buy you some curtains. We can hang them up tonight.”

Originally, we were going to continue our work upstairs. So far we’ve already gutted everything, laid down her new subfloor and put in her new master bath.

While I miss her coming over to use mine, she really wanted to be able to shower in her own home, so we focused on it. We still need to install the drywall and floors for every other room up there.

“I was thinking about getting wooden blinds,” she presses her lips together before blowing out a breath like she doesn’t want to admit what’s about to come out of her mouth. “I read somewhere people who break into houses don’t like them.”

Even the thought of someone breaking into her house makes my blood boil. I want to tell her I’ll never let that happen. “Start with curtains for now and we’ll install the blinds after we put in your new windows.”

Her head jerks back. “I’m not planning to replace the windows anytime soon.”

“You need new ones.”

She frowns. “I do not.”

“Why do you always have to argue?” I counter.

When she crosses her arms over her chest, all it does is pull my attention to the valley between her breasts. “I’m the boss, remember?”

I drag my gaze up to meet hers. “The insulation we put in your walls is going to help this winter but not by much with the windows you have.”

She surprises me by walking out of the kitchen and into her den, where she face plants onto her sectional.

I follow her, sitting near her head and pushing her hair back from her face. “You okay?”

She turns onto her back and looks up at me. “It never ends.”

Now is not the time to point out there’s a decent chance she’d only be halfway done with the first floor if I hadn’t started helping her.

“Maybe you need a night off from working on the place,” I suggest.

She pops up, shaking her head. “No. No, we need to go to the store because people can see in here. Curtains. I’ve got to get curtains.”

I stand and move to her side, offering her my hand. Once she’s up, I grasp her biceps.

She gulps, and tips her face up to look at me.

“You’re going to get an ulcer if you keep stressing yourself like this.”

She nods. “I know. You’re right. I know.”

My hands glide up and down her arms as she relaxes. It’ll piss her off but I decide to cover the cost of her new windows. There’s an expression that to get to a man’s heart you have to go through his stomach. To get to Finley’s heart, I have to go through this house.

She arranged the payment for wood floors going in upstairs around payday. Even if she holds off on the windows for the third floor, she still needs twenty-two windows. That’s not counting the French door that leads out to her back patio or the transom and side windows around her front door.

Twenty-two windows will not be cheap, even if I’m doing the labor for free. She could get by with cheap windows but in the long run it’d be more efficient over time to get higher quality ones up front.

“I can get blackout ones,” she blurts. “They help on heating bills. Right?”

She doesn’t fight it when I take her hand; she just grabs her keys and purse before we walk out the door. After we park, I reach for her hand again and hold it until we get inside. It sucks when I have to let her go to grab a cart.

She’s quiet and it’s unnerving. Each time I took her hand she didn’t flinch. Did she even notice, or was she more preoccupied with the window bomb I dropped?

“Do you like these?” She asks, pulling a display curtain out for me to look at.

I grin at her. “I’m no home decorator.”

For the first time since I’ve seen her tonight she smiles. “You can at least tell me if you think they’re hideous or not.”

“They are not hideous.”

Her nose wrinkles before she huffs, “You’re no help.”

“You pick out curtains. I’ll go get the hardware for them.”

She frowns so I say, “or I can stay and help pick out curtains.”

She shakes her head and comes over to me, surprising me by hugging me, her arms circling my waist, her cheek pressing to my chest. “I said you were no help but I didn’t mean it. I was joking. I’m sorry.”

I wrap my arms around her. “Don’t worry babe, I knew you were joking.”

Her head jerks up in surprise and she stares at me. I hold her gaze, my hands moving up and down, as I rub her back.

She breaks the silence. “Promise?”

I nod. Since she’s upset I focus on anything other than how perfect she feels in my arms, her breasts pressed up against me.

She takes a step back. As much as I hate it, I let her go.

“I’m being silly. Go, get the stuff you mentioned and I’ll grab curtains.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, taking a step closer to her.

She nods, and goes back to sorting through the curtains on display. “I’m good.”

The hardware for the curtains is all in the next aisle. I grab the bare necessities and hurry back to Finley.

“Find anything you like?” I ask her when I make my way back by her side.

She pulls up the first display curtain she showed me. “I like these the best. They’re neutral, lined, and even better, on sale. I’m going to use them for the whole first floor.” She takes a step to the left and pulls out another curtain. This one has a white background with a pale yellow and grey pattern. “I’m going to put these in the master. I get it’s not done yet but since they’re the same brand as the others they’re on sale too and I like them.”

“I like them. Do they have enough of the first curtains for the first floor?”

She moves closer to me, and counts. “Crap. They don’t. It’s only enough for the living room and dining room.”

She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away with her thumbs. “Let me check online.”

After a minute she holds her phone up in victory. “Ordered online for pick up later this week.”

I load what they do have into the cart as she gets enough curtains for her bedroom and then some sheers.

“I feel good about this,” she says as we make our way to the registers.

I’m not sure if her words were for herself or me. “Your house is looking more like a home everyday.”

“More like a home,” she repeats, a soft smile on her face.

When she sees the total at the register, she gulps before paying. I want to offer to cover it for her but I already know she’d never let me. It’ll be hard enough doing the windows for her.

“Are you okay?” I ask, once we’re driving back to her house.

She gives me a tight smile. “I was doing math in my head.”

“How’s your budget looking?” I ask.

“Well, the materials we need for the next couple of weeks are already paid for. The idea of buying windows this soon wasn’t something I had considered. It threw me off. But, now that I’ve had some time to let it sink in, I understand your point in needing to replace them.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I admit.

She reaches across the console to squeeze my arm. “I appreciate it. It’s better to know and be able to plan for it instead of having to scramble on the fly.”

“Scrambling is bad unless it’s eggs,” I joke.

She doesn’t laugh. “How much do you think windows will cost?”

“I’d have to measure your windows to make sure we wouldn’t need to special order them. Otherwise, decent ones can range from three to six hundred dollars.”

“Six hundred dollars?” She pants.

“Babe, calm down,” I order, kicking myself for telling her the truth.

“No, I’m calm. I am,” she nods her head, like she’s convincing herself.

I don’t believe her.

She’s quiet the rest of the drive and as we unload her purchases. As soon as we have everything inside, she pulls out a calculator. When I take it from her and shove it into my back pocket she scowls up at me.

“Not now Finley. We have curtains to hang and you promised me a brownie.”

Her scowl disappears as she tries not to smile. “The brownies were for something else I made.”

My brows furrow. “Do I get to try what you made?”

She smiles outright this time, her attention off of the windows, before dashing off to the kitchen. While I wait, I get started on the first window.

I’m not far along before Finley shouts for me to go to the den. I do as I’m told and watch as she approaches, carrying two glass dishes. Whatever dessert is in them appears to be stacked.

“What are these?” I ask, accepting one from her.

There’s a spoon already in it.

“It’s a chocolate mousse trifle,” she replies, and then points out each layer. “Brownie, mousse, whipped cream, another layer of brownies, mousse, more whipped cream and shaved milk chocolate on top.”

“Jesus, it’s almost too pretty to eat.” When her eyes widen I add, “I said almost.”

Then I take a bite and groan, my eyes rolling back. She giggles, clearly loving my reaction before taking her own bite.

Not even caring that I’m not done chewing I mumble, “This is amazing.”

She takes another bite, licking her lips after. What I would give to lick this chocolate mousse stuff off her.

“I’m not going to be able to get off of this couch. I’m going to be in a chocolate coma after this,” she jokes.

I don’t share my reason for not being able to stand.