Page 61 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
“Don and I would like to take the next step in our relationship, as you kids like to say. You’ve taken care of your grandma all this time, my dear. I’m very grateful to you.” She then reached across the table to take both of our hands in hers, gently squeezing them. “Both of you.”
“Don’t you think this is a little fast?” Hayes asked, genuine concern in his voice. “You’ve only known Don for, what? Not even a year?”
“Life is short.” Rosie sighed, but her expression was cheerful. “I don’t want to waste any more time worrying about the proper way to do this or that. Don and I love each other very much. We deserve to be happy.”
Since then, Hayes has actively made an effort to spend more time with Don, signing him out of the nursing home to take him to baseball games and bring him to the shop. I’m proud of him, and honestly a little jealous of their budding friendship.
Rosie, I could handle. But battling Don for Hayes’s attention? It brought me an unexpected wave of unease. But I knew this was going to be a good move . . . for all of us.
Rosie’s deep laugh draws me back to the present, and I turn to find the three of them approaching, finally done signing the remaining paperwork. It seems to me that Rosie and Don have been holding hands since the moment they met.
The rest of the day passes quickly, a flurry of furniture rearrangements and pizza topping requests.
After we’ve called it quits for the night, I step away from the buzzing conversation and onto the apartment’s balcony to call in our order. There, I find Hayes leaning against the railing, his eyes focused on the orange-and-purple tapestry of the setting sun.
“Hey,” I say softly, leaning my head against his shoulder.
“Hey.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me against his warmth. There’s nothing better than cozying up next to your favorite person after a long day like today.
“How are you doing?” I ask, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I can’t quite read his expression. If I’m being honest, it’s unlike any I’ve ever seen. Pensive, definitely. Hopeful too?
“I’m good,” he murmurs, his striking eyes leaving the sunset to meet mine, somehow carrying that residual warmth with them.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything on your mind?” I ask, knowing that Hayes always needs a little push, that extra gesture of permission to let him know, you can tell me anything.
“Well . . .” He sighs, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I thought I’d have more time with her. I don’t know if I feel worse about keeping her cooped up in the apartment for so long, or for not spending enough time together, just the two of us.”
“Hayes, you’re the best grandson anyone could ask for. Rosie loves you so much.” When he doesn’t respond, I continue. “It’s not like she’ll be far away. We can visit her anytime.”
“You’re right. I know that.” He chuckles, nuzzling his nose into my hair, and I nestle into him, savoring his masculine scent. “It’s all happening pretty fast, huh?”
“Says the guy moving in with my sister.”
We turn, surprised to find Wolfie leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. We both know him well enough to recognize when his scowl is the I’m gonna beat you up kind, or the I’m just giving you a hard time kind. Luckily, this time it’s the latter.
“You order that pizza yet?” he asks, nodding toward the forgotten cell phone in my hand.
I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, realizing I’d completely abandoned my mission. Being around Hayes does that to me. Always has, and always will.
“Sorry,” I mumble, extracting myself from Hayes’s arms to finish what I started.
“Don’t worry about it. I got it,” Wolfie says, pulling out his own phone.
“You don’t have to—”
But the phone is already pressed to his ear as he walks back inside to rejoin the others. It’s less of a cold shoulder and more of a decision to let us live our lives in peace.
I look up to Hayes with a hopeless expression, and he simply grins down at me.
“Wanna take off after the pizza?” he asks, drawing my chilled hands between his and blowing his warm breath on them. “Go home?”
Home. My heart sings.
“And unpack more boxes? I don’t know,” I say with a sigh.
Yes, Hayes and I have already moved in together, not even a year since we exchanged I love yous. No, I’m not worried.
“I know a specific box we could unpack,” he murmurs, one eyebrow rising suggestively.
I know exactly which box he’s referring to. The indecent little collection of battery-charged pleasures we’ve accumulated over the past year. We haven’t had a chance to play since we packed them away and shuffled them from one apartment to another.
