Page 79 of Midlife Crisis

“What’s wrong with my money?” I huff, gripping the counter, mirroring her position opposite me.

“Nothing, but it’s yours.” She waves outward from her body toward me.

“That’s the point. It’s mine, and I’m giving it to you.” Her entire body sags, her hands coming to rest on the counter again. We face off a second before she looks away.

“I can’t accept it. It’s sweet of you and super generous, but I can’t accept your gift.”

“Why not?” I practically whine this time, a petulant child not understanding.

“Just no, Hank.” She shivers, and I sense I’m glowering at her. My arms cross, biceps bulging with tension.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” I say, softening my tone and lowering my arms. I circle the island, reaching out to cup her jaw. I don’t like the momentary fear on her face.

Her eyes dash back and forth between mine. “I’m not frightened, but I can’t accept this.”

I search her face, wanting to comprehend. “This could help you. It can fix things.”

“What things?” she questions. “I’m not broken, and I’m not broke. Not yet, at least. I have applications out there, and I’ve investigated other avenues.”

Her fingers typically hold my wrists when I circle her face, but only her eyes reach mine.

“Like what? What things?”

Shrugging, she says, “I’ve reached out to other former clients I know from Bigle Marketing and a few on the list of who we wanted to impress. Some of them are willing to listen to me as an independent contractor.”

“That’s…that’s great, right?”

She shrugs again. “I think it’s a step forward.” Ugh, damn steps again.

“I still wish you’d just take the money. Look at it as a gift.”

“It’s very generous, but I don’t want to owe you.” Her voice softens although the words sting.

“You won’t owe me anything. I’m the one who already owes you,” I tease, stroking her cheeks.

“For what?” Her lips twist, and her brows furrow.

“For doing more with me.” I lower my head and take her lips. She’s so delicious, and within seconds, I’m crushing her against me, lapping up her lips and hoping to make her taste how I feel. I want to give her everything. What’s mine is hers.

“What’s more mean?” She pulls back a bit when the kiss slows.

“You said you wanted more a few weeks ago, and I want more with you.” She stares at me, eyes uncertain, and I realize I’m not explaining myself well. I repeat her sentiments. “More kisses, more than being okay. More of everything.”

“I more you, too.” She giggles. “But I’m not taking the money. It’s not like we’re married. We’re dating. It’s too much.”

I pull back at the comment, looking directly into her eyes. “If we were married, would you take the money?” It’s an honest question, but her answer surprises me.

“Hank, I’m not having this conversation with you.” Her tone grates over me as she tugs her face from my hands. Didn’t she say she wanted more? What the hell?

“Why not?”

“You aren’t going to marry me so you can give me the money. Money you didn’t know you still had. You should enjoy it yourself. Use it for Lawson. Or…or…go on a vacation or something.” She waves out a hand again, before slapping her thigh in frustration and the sting echoing in her kitchen.

“I don’t want to take a damn vacation,” I snip. I could marry her. I would do this in order for her to accept my gift. She stares at me, her head tilting as if she can read my thoughts.

“No.”

My mouth pops open. How does she do that? “You told me you would say yes if I asked.”