“Don’t be. But maybe we should talk about how this is going to work.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, clasped his hands.
“Are you still sure?”
“Yep.” He didn’t sound sure, more like resigned. But she told herself she was helping him keep his house so she pretended not to notice.
She let out an anxious breath. “I was thinking we should start with a list of rules. More than anything I don’t want our friendship to suffer.”
“Agreed.”
“And if things start to get weird, we have to talk about it.”
“Done.”
“Okay, so house rules.” She reached over for the laptop sitting on the counter. “Can I type them up on this?”
“Go for it. Do you need any more ginger ale or crackers?”
“This sweetness thing you have going on? Don’t lose it. I’m okay at the moment, thanks.”
He reached behind him, opened the fridge, and pulled out a sports drink. “I’m always sweet on you.” At her raised eyebrows he amended that to, “Usually. You just don’t like that I never let you win at air hockey.”
“You cheat!”
“Says you.” His boyish simper deflated her irritation. Every single time, damn him.
“Rule number one.” She spoke and typed at the same time. “You have to sleep in pajamas.”
“Worried you’ll catch me in my birthday suit again, Maybug?” He took a long drag on his drink, looking cool as a cucumber over the fact she’d seen him naked eight months ago. She’d stayed overnight at his condo and needed a drink of water in the middle of the night at the same time he did.
His using his special nickname for her in the same context did something funny to her stomach.
“Friends of the opposite sex should not see each other naked.” She’d tried really hard to keep her eyes on his face, but she was only human. And Danny was hot.
“Will boxers suffice?”
“Yes.”
“The pajama rule applies to you as well.” Liv rolled her eyes. He knew she slept in oversize T-shirts. “And you can’t leave any lingerie lying around.”
“Worried I can’t keep my Victoria’s Secret secret?”
“Something like that.” He jotted down another item on the shopping list, lifted his eyes back to hers. “Ear plugs.”
“I do not snore!” She breathed heavy. “Besides, it’s not like you’ll hear me if I do.”
“Have you heard how lou—”
“Shut it!” She threw a nearby dishtowel at him. He laughed and caught it with one hand.
“Next rule. You can’t hog the television and have ESPN or HGTV on 24/7 because I have some favorite shows, too.” She’d noticed there was only one television, set up in the family room.
He winced. “Fair enough, but I don’t have to watch with you.”
“Maybe sometimes? If I’m really scared?” Liv’s favorite shows were horror series, and Danny hated them. He might be six foot one with muscle to spare, but when it came to the supernatural, he caved like a baby.
“I’ll think about it. Rule number four. No cooking whatever that broccoli stuff is that smells like crap.”
“I love broccolini,” she said. He crossed his arms and looked down at her so she added, “Fine.”
“You can bake as often as you like, though.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. When they were teenagers she used to make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak them to him all the time. His mom was a health nut who rarely kept sweets in the house.
“Rule number five. We…clean up our own messes,” he said at the same time she did. “I’m so getting off easier with that one,” he continued with a grin.
“Are you implying I’m messy?” Stupid question. Who made the rule clothes had to be hung up anyway? Or that there was a place for everything and that didn’t mean stuffed in a closet or drawer? She looked up at him under hooded eyes. “This could be a problem since you’re kind of a neat freak.” The “kind of” was to make herself feel better because her best friend even put his shoes away. Who did that?
He laughed. “If that’s our only problem, I’ll take it.”
Yeah, what in her head had played out like Danny and Olivia getting to spend lots of time together didn’t feel quite so simple now that she was sitting across from him and making it real.
“To make up for this huge inconvenience I’m hitting you with, I’ll do all the cooking and grocery shopping, dust, vacuum, do your laundry, and take out the trash.” She kept her head down, typing a little slower than she spoke. “Oh, and I’m paying rent. Let me know what you think is a fair amount.” She had plenty of savings thanks to an inheritance from her grandmother, but planned to get serious about working again soon. The thought put a knot in her stomach. Could she go back to the job she loved despite her monumental screw up?