Page 7 of Hands off his Dudette

Chapter 4

Finn got home, exhausted and with a stiff neck at two in the morning. He'd have to get back to the office by nine the next day. Thankfully, he got paid time and a half outside of conventional working hours, so at least he'd see some benefit. Finn abhorred touching his family's money. It was bad enough that he still lived in a Johnson home.

His pride didn't overshadow his practical sense. Why shove money at an extortionate mortgage, or worse, rent at NYC rates, when there was a whole house with his name on it, sitting empty, like the rest of their properties, because his mother refused to rent anything out?

The house didn't suit his taste; it was too large, gaudy, and old-fashioned, with columns, high ceilings, fireplaces. He would have preferred a modern apartment like the one his brother had just purchased.

But living here had allowed him to save up quite a bit of cash. He was lucky enough to have gone through college without needing a loan, so everything he didn't use could be put away. He could already afford a place now, but Finn would put away some more money before he bought a house. He wanted space; at least three bedrooms, enough room for a game room, a gym, and a room where Anna could do her yoga. She'd move with him, obviously.

Finn grimaced, remembering when he'd explained all that to his brother, just a couple of days ago. Trick had laughed. "You're actually taking her needs into consideration when you're thinking about your house? Finn, the likelihood that she'd stay with you for more than a couple of years is pretty slim, you know."

Finn had snorted.

"Seriously. You need to wake up, and grow up. Anna is twenty-seven. She's going to want a family someday... "

"She's never wanted kids," said Finn, irritated that everyone seemed to want to tell him what his best friend wanted, when he knew her better than any of them. "Not when she was nine, fifteen, twenty-one, and not now. She's practically had to raise her younger siblings, and she hated it."

Trick didn't argue. "Fine. A husband, then. Or maybe just her own place. You have to stop thinking that she's going to stay with you until the end of time, because it's going to seriously hurt when you wake up."

He'd heard that too often, for years, and Anna still lived next door, they still hung out every day, played games, watched movies.

He was silent as he moved through the austere house. Passing in front of Anna's door, Finn stopped a moment, hearing her snore. He smiled. He'd known she'd get home before him. And a good thing, too: she needed a lot more sleep than him.

He headed to his room, removed his shoes and dropped on his bed, still dressed. Taking his phone from his pocket, Finn browsed his favorite game store. Anna had saved their ass with that Chinese the previous evening. He owed her something that would make her smile. To his annoyance, she already owned just about everything that she'd want. For half a second, his tired mind wondered whether he should send her flowers. Most women liked them well enough. Fuck. He'd truly believed he knew just about anything about Anna, but he'd just realized he had no idea what her favorite flowers were. Funny. Whenever he dated a girl, it was one of the first things he found out, to make sure he knew what to send when they'd earned a treat.

Take that, Trick, he thought. Obviously, that was proof that he'd never thought about Anna that way at all.

Of course, this was a lie. He was a guy, after all. A time or two, late at night, he'd found herself noticing her, being conscious of every part of her body curled up next to him. She was beautiful, and it was entirely natural for him to react to it. Healthy, even. But each time, he'd reminded himself that it was his best friend, his dudette, and he'd ignored it.

No flowers for Anna. Instead, he'd find something she'd truly cherish, something she'd keep.

He smiled, remembering how much she'd enjoyed the latest Fantastic Beasts movie. As a proud member of the house Slytherin, according to Pottermore, Anna had loved seeing the qualities of her house emphasized for once. He knew she had robes, wands, Quidditch sweaters, scarves, and every other official Potter merchandise one could think of, but he didn't think she'd gotten around to raiding the latest movie's swag store yet. He placed a large order, picking up a few things for his own collection, first.

Grow up, Trick said. What was the fun in that?

When he was done, Finn set his alarm and passed out.

Six hours later, his nostrils flared. Finn opened one eye, lifting his head out of his pillow, to find a small wrapped parcel and a steaming cappuccino on a tray. His stomach rumbled. He wasn't sure what was in the white wrap, but he smelled bacon, and butter.

"I love you," he mumbled in his pillow.

Anna laughed. "Don't let the girls hear you say so. They were insisting that I'm in love with you yesterday."

"They can join the club," he replied, sitting up, and pulling the tray on his lap.

She'd made the coffee, of course. Anna didn't do well in the kitchen, mostly because she didn't want to bother. The two or three times when she'd wanted to make an effort, she'd always cooked something really nice, surprising no one except herself. Anything remotely domestic made her feel like a child raising five kids again.

She did, however, proudly make the best coffee in NYC. She'd purchased a grinder, and a complex coffee machine that had amounted to thousands of dollars, and every red cent was absolutely worth it.

His alarm rang on his bedside table. Anna turned it off. "Another late night?" she asked.

Opening up the packet to find a bagel inside, Finn nodded. "All week. Why, are you going to bring me food every day?"

"Will you eat if I don't?" she challenged.

Probably not. The assistants brought them lunch, but he rarely had a chance to eat on late nights.

"Then, yes. I should bill you."

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