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I met Kennedy’s gaze. She was watching me with those big doe eyes of her, her cheeks pink, her hands playing with her hair now. I sighed. “Yep.”
“I can’t help you, but I’ll stop in to talk to Jeff myself. Let him know he can’t fuck around with her car.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
We hung up, and I slipped my cell phone into my back pocket. “Okay, Dylan’s going to try to speed up the process. In the meantime, you can use my car. Since I’m at campus all day, I won’t need it.”
“But how will you get around?”
“Uber or something.”
She waved her hand in the air, like the idea was ridiculous. “Oh no. You keep your car.”
“Then how willyouget around?”
She shrugged. “The bus.”
“Kennedy,” I started, attempting to soften my voice from the razor-sharp point it was at now, “while I appreciate you trying to make this work on your own, that’s not safe or feasible. I’ll contact my insurance and add you as a temporary driver.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes. I do. I should have asked before if you had reliable transportation.” But it was too late now. At least the background check came back clean. “We’ll get it sorted out.”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything.”
She absolutely was inconveniencing me, but I didn’t like how anxious she seemed.
“My main concern is Finn’s safety. And yours, of course,” I added as an afterthought, and her answering smile was tepid at best.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Let me show you to your room so you can get settled. Finn’s still napping, so I figured we could go over his schedule.”
She grinned, the sun coming out again, and grabbed hold of her suitcase to follow me upstairs. “I really appreciate you doing all this. Not just for the car, but for giving me a chance.”
I nodded but didn’t reply otherwise. My house was a bi-level with two smaller sets of steps leading to the top floor, and when Kennedy struggled with her suitcase on the carpet, I nudged her gently out of the way. “Let me help you.”
I heaved it up the staircase. “What do you have packed in here? Bricks? Jesus.”
“No bricks or Jesus packed in there.”
I gave in to a small smile and set down her suitcase. “This is your room,” I said, waving my hand to the plain bedroom. “I figured it might be a little…”
“It’s perfect.” She dragged her luggage inside and sat on the bed, kicking her legs.
I hadn’t painted the walls or anything, and she was a rainbow bursting through a gray cloud with her makeup and jewelry, not to mention her colorful clothes. “You can decorate or whatever you want. I want you to feel at home here.”
She stood and struggled to lift her suitcase onto the bed, so I helped her. “Do you want me to get the rest of your bags?”
“You don’t have to. I can do it.”
“Can you?” It was a serious question. She was only a few inches over five feet, and I doubted she had much wiggle room in those dark jeans that were basically a second skin. I imagined her dragging each bag upstairs.
As if she could see inside my head, she tried on an angry face, but it melted into a giggle. “No, actually. My weightlifting regimen consists of my hair dryer and brush.”
When I quirked my brow, she tossed her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s a workout to tame this mass.” Then she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a large orange hair dryer and a bunch of attachments, along with a few brushes. They looked professional-grade. “Try holding your arms up in the air for twenty minutes while you dry and curl two feet of hair.”
