He released her quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“To be clear, I’m doing this for the insurance. And so you can rent out the home I grew up in to strangers until you make me a competitive offer. I swear to god, if you try to lowball me after this, I’m taking a chainsaw to one of your pinkies. Don’t test me, Hodges.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “It’ll be a fair offer. I swear. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a premarital agreement. No surprises.”
“Good. I’ll have my lawyer look at it, too.”
There was no way Mark would allow her back into his office without a Hannibal Lecter mask fastened to her head, but Elliot didn’t need to know that the only lawyer she could almost afford believed her to be homicidal, especially after threatening her fiancé’s digits.
“Isn’t a chainsaw a bit big for a finger? Seems like overkill.”
“I’m pretty precise with it. Plus it’s quick, which I’m guessing would be your preference.”
He nodded his head once, grimacing. “That’s…generous.”
“Nothing to worry about so long as we can trust each other, right?” She slapped his back with her palm.
“Right,” he choked out. “Now, is there anything else you wanted to talk about at one eighteen in the morning?”
“Just that it’s important to me that you take my last name. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I think a husband’s identity should be subsumed by his wife’s, both legally and symbolically. It’s a dream I’ve always had for myself.”
“Good night, Lainey Davis.” He was shoving her out the door.
“Good night, Mr. Lainey Davis. See, isn’t that gorgeous? And you’re handsome enough to pull it off.”
The corners of his mouth tilted upward. “You think I’m handsome?” he teased.
“Not to me,” she argued defensively. “Just in the most basic, biological sense.”
His smile broadened until his eyes crinkled into something she imagined Gran would characterize as “bedroom eyes” but Lainey would classify as arrogant.
“It’s too late. You said it. I heard it. You can’t take it back.”
“Thirty seconds ago, I threatened you with a chainsaw, but this…” She gestured between them. “This is your major takeaway?”
He shook his head. “My major takeaway is that you find me so irresistible that you couldn’t wait until the morning to beg me to marry you.”
“The delusion!” Her eyes fluttered in bemusement. “I can’t believe I’m going into business with you.”
Just the other day, this man had no doubt been debating whether or not to sue her for a house that currently had a bat living in the mailbox, and now, even with a résumé and relationship history as spotty as hers, Lainey Davis was going into the “business” of marriage with Elliot Hodges.
Fate was a fickle son of a bitch.
Chapter 7
A Three-Strikes Situation with Corporate
57 Days until Busy Season
“Who invites someoneto lunch in Glen Harbor on a weekday? My entire day is shot to hell.”
Three days after Elliot’s indecent proposal at the Dairy Cave, he’d invited her for a “business lunch” at the Benihana in the outlet mall forty minutes east of Timber Creek. It hadn’t made sense to get set up in front of her current sculptural headache only to stop ninety minutes later to shower, change, and get ready for said lunch with Elliot. The shower and outfit weren’t for Elliot’s benefit, obviously. Benihana was a fine establishment that didn’t deserve tree sap on its upholstery during lunch service.
“I’m choosing not to take offense to the revelation that spending a morning with me was not always your plan for the day,” Gran said, taking the turn onto the main thoroughfare much wider than necessary. Gran always drove when they took Lainey’s car. According to her, crawling over a cupholder of Coke-soaked nickels at her age was “undignified.”
“No,” Lainey protested without an ounce of fight in her voice. “A Tuesday morning bingo game at the Lake Superior Community Center was always my plan.”
“Thank you for making the time, considering my life isn’t as long as yours.” Gran let the front tire kiss a curb. She didn’t even blink. “We need to find a new spot for bingo. I won two rounds, and I still didn’t break even for what we put in.”
