Page 14 of Hands off his Dudette

It was. "You want to change it?" She nodded now. "Done."

Anna sighed. "It's your mother's sofa."

"And she can have it in her guest suite upstairs. Anything else?"

"The decoration is pretty outdated, but honestly, changing it would be an undertaking. Forget about it. It's really not my place to tell you what to do about your family home."

But it was. Finn found that he couldn't actually say that.

Instead, he told her,"I'm saving up to buy my own place."

Come to think of it, that it was the first time he'd mentioned it.

She nodded. "Yeah, me too."

Finn stilled, biting back the words at the tip of his tongue. That she didn't have to save, that she'd just move with him. He'd said just that to Trick when they'd mentioned it just the previous week, but in the light of recent events, he realized how presumptuous he'd been. Of course, she'd save for her own place. That was the normal, adult thing to do.

"Yeah? How far are you from getting what you need?"

She sighed. "It's New York City. I'm making good money, and I'm done paying my student loans, but still a long way off. You?"

He smiled. "I should have enough next year."

Three, two, one...

"You'll move in with me, right?" he asked. "While you're saving for your house."

Anna didn't miss a beat. "Sure. But if you're paying a mortgage off, I will pay rent."

He shook his head. "If I wanted a mortgage, I would already have moved. I'll own outright. Same deal, you can cover the bills. But none of this nonsense. You don't like the decoration, you tell me. You want a new sofa, you get one. There's no fucking point living somewhere if you can't make it a home."

"Well, there is kind of a point to having a roof over your head," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But I'll definitely feel more comfortable suggesting changes to your place, rather than your mother's."

So, that was her hang up. Fair. Arabella Johnson was scary—even to her sons.

"You know Mother likes you, right?"

Anna snorted.

"For real. You should see her with—well, anyone else. She does that little moue with her nose that makes her look like someone is constantly holding a small plate of shit in front of her."

Anna giggled. "Can I help?" she asked.

She didn't like cooking, but she always offered her assistance.

"Sure. You can...make a salad, pour two glasses of red wine, and prepare the movie."

She beamed. "You got it."

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