Page 8 of Hands off his Dudette

"You should," he repeated. "Especially if you're bringing food for the whole floor."

She laughed. "I was kidding. You're not letting me pay rent. Trust me, I still win in the deal."

On that note, she retreated. Finn found his gaze following her back. She was wearing a sports bra, a tank top and form-fitting yoga pants, and well, the rear view was rather pleasing.

Anna did yoga because her back, shoulders, neck, and hips had started to hurt a few years ago—she worked hunched over a keyboard, a tablet, or a piece of paper—and it had helped her manage the pain, but the exercise had done wonders to her figure. She'd always been on the slimmer side, but she had definition, and her curves were a lot more obvious these days.

Fuck.

His morning wood was turning into something very different. Trick's fault, for planting ideas in his mind.

"Anna?"

She looked over her shoulder.

"Thank you for breakfast."

Her grin was infectious.

"You're very welcome."

"And wear a coat today."

She pouted. "My coat from last year needs dry cleaning. I've given my other ones away."

"Well, take it to the cleaners, then. Wear something warm."

"Yes, Mama," she replied, rolling her eyes.

She needed a spare coat. He filed the information in his mind. Good thing Christmas was coming up.

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