“I am hanging up.”
“Wait. About my offer.”
“What offer?”
“For you to stay with me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yes?”
“I have been thinking.”
“That is always dangerous.”
“My place is very small.”
“You have a guest room.”
“Tiny.”
“You bought a queen bed for it.”
“Which, in hindsight, was reckless. There is barely room to walk around it.”
I stare at the wall. “You are retracting your offer.”
“I would never.”
“You are.”
“I am reconsidering whether dragging you away from a six-foot-something fire chief who has apparently decided to monitor you all night would be responsible.”
My face warms. “He has not decided that.”
“Hasn’t he?”
I glance over my shoulder.
Zain is still standing near the kitchen with the folded clothes in his hands, watching me with the kind of patient focus that strongly suggests Joyce may have a point.
I turn away again. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Kaia, I am deeply concerned.”
“You sound delighted.”
“I can contain multitudes.”
“Joyce.”
“Fine. May I make one small suggestion?”
“No.”
“You do not even know what it is.”
“I know you.”
“That is hurtful.”
