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Suddenly, I remember there’s an envelope in my hand, so I open it and pull out the single sheet of paper with great trepidation. A bead of sweat dribbles down my back.
A quote for a pool?
What the actual shit?
I never asked for a quote for a pool, but my name is on there with a rough sketch of my yard, a few shapes, and the cost to put in each one. It looks fancy. For fifty grand, I’d hope it’s fancy. I let out a fuming snort. This is too far, and it has to be Kayden’s doing. He’s getting back at me for the pizzas alright, and he’s doing it in true Kayden fashion by scaring me with a huge cost like that. Well, I’ll show him, the inconsiderate bastard.
I’m also pissed that someone looked at my yard. It’s trespassing! They did not have my permission. Kayden’s definitely going to hear about this.
I march down the sidewalk with my sleeves rolled up and nostrils fuming, but I stop dead in my tracks when I see the posts dividing our yard. They’re fence posts, all spaced out evenly and the perfect ratio—standing thick and tall.
Kayden is putting up a fence? Why would he do that? It’s the very thing I threatened him with. Is he trying to get under my skin by taking the only power I have over him away from me? It really doesn’t make any sense.
I bang my fist against his shitty wooden door so hard that half the neighborhood probably heard the frantic as shit knocking. When Kayden opens the door, I take a step back. He’s calm as a cucumber and as handsome as ever. He’s wearing yet another pair of nice-looking ripped up jeans and a faded blue t-shirt with some garage name across the front that he most assuredly never worked at. His hair is neat and tidy, his dark eyes are alive with humor, and his sensual manly lips curl at the corners. He reaches into his pocket and extends something out toward me. I jump back, but no, it’s not a spider, rat, or hidden snake. It’s not anything living.
Seriously, his pocket is not a goddamn tickle trunk. Get a farging grip.
“What’s that?” I should just lay into him about the pool and fence, but I’m momentarily distracted. It looks like a card—some little bit of plastic. A gift card?
“It’s a gift card,” Kayden confirms straight up. “For five grand to a local appliance store. I noticed yours were on the older side, and if I’m going to be keeping my food in them and cooking, I need to be using top of the line products.”
I stare at the card, two and three-eighths of a shade past dumbfounded, but I do manage to force down the world’s loudest swallow.
“It’s a promotion bonus. My treat,” Kayden adds.
I snatch the card out of his hand. It’s debatable whether I’ll use it or not, but I’m thinking my parents would like new appliances because my mom’s oven is on the fritz, and Sadie was complaining about her fridge being near the end of its life. She says her milk goes bad after a day. Milk is not supposed to expire that fast, and even though Sadie is prone to exaggeration, I believe her on that one. Her fridge is a serial milk spoiler.
“What about the pool?” I ask furiously. I leave it at that. Let Kayden explain.
“The pool. Yes, well, I thought your yard looked a little bit lonely. I’m going to be getting one for my yard, and the company offers a discount if you buy two. Imagine that.”
“I’m not paying for a freaking pool. There’s no way I could afford fifty grand. Are you insane?”
“No, I’ll pay for it.”
At his words, my jaw nearly detaches from my face. “You’ll what? Now you’re scaring me because no one buys someone else a fifty thousand dollar pool!” I totally miss the whole bit where he said he was getting one and what that implies. Either he’s fixing up his house to sell, or he’s fixing it up to stay, though I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
“Do you think it could work back there? The pool?”
“I think you’re an overbearing butthole of an ogre in the butthole.”
“A double butthole. How spectacularly impressive.”
I’m speechless. And angry. But how can I be angry? Because Kayden’s being too nice. That’s the answer. He’s switching it up and changing tactics. Money means less than nothing to him, so he can do whatever he wants with it. He’s using kindness to fuck with my head.
Well, two can play at that.
I dial into some sugary sweetness of my own. “Well, thanks. I’ll consider it.” There’s no way in flying cluckaduck I’ll ever consider it. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go get ready.”
