“That was good. You ate that with me all the time.”
He laughed, the sound warm as it washed over me. “I ate it because you cooked it and the only alternative was coming to the restaurant if we wanted decent food. If we did that, I knew we would have your grandfather breathing down our necks and that would mean no romance.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying you only ate the stir fry because you thought it would get you some?”
“Don’t be crude. I ate the stir fry because I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible — without a cranky old man pointing and yelling the word ‘pervert’ over and over.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“Yeah, well ... that’s how I roll.” He turned his attention back to the soup. “Get rid of that. I brought pizza, wings, breadsticks, and some giant cookie thing that seems like it should be weird but is delicious.”
I hesitated and then started for the living room. “I should get some money for you. That was probably expensive.”
When I returned to the kitchen with the bowl, I found him watching me with unreadable eyes.
“What?” I asked, looking around self-consciously. “Do I have food on me or something?”
“I’m just trying to figure out how difficult your mental problems will be to overcome,” he said. “I’m guessing it won’t be a walk in the park.”
I frowned. Mental problems? What sort of weird dig was that? “I’ve never understood that saying.”
“Do you prefer nap in the shade? It won’t be a nap in the shade either ... or an afternoon spent hunting morels ... or a lazy ride down the river in kayaks.”
My frown deepened. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” I said. “I just thought that I should pay for my half of the food.”
He lodged his hip against the counter. “Why?”
“Because ... because this isn’t a date. We’re not dating yet. We’re just ... hanging out as friends.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
I ignored the question. “Even if it was a date, the days of men paying for food when it comes to romantic outings are over. It’s my job to pay for half of everything. Otherwise that gives you all the power in the relationship.”
“Did you see that on Oprah or something?”
“Oprah no longer has a talk show. I read it in a magazine.”
“Oh, well, as long as you have a scientific reason for believing nonsense, that’s all that matters.” He pulled out the chair closest to me. “Sit.”
“Please,” I corrected. “You’re supposed to say ‘please.’”
His lips quirked but he kept his expression neutral. “Sit, please.”
I did as he asked, my stomach growling when the scent of the pizza hit my olfactory senses. I was a lot hungrier than I realized. “You got that from the pizza shop?”
He nodded as he got comfortable across from me. “It’s rare that we can say Shadow Hills has the best of anything, but we do have outstanding pizza.”
“And prime rib,” I added. “My grandfather makes amazing prime rib.”
“He does.”
“And spaghetti sauce.”
“That goes without saying.”
“And tomato soup.”
Hunter’s scowl was back. “Are you trying to torture me with a never-ending list of food?”
“I thought we were simply having a conversation.”
“It’s a pretty boring conversation,” he said. “I want to go back to talking about your strange beliefs regarding money.”
I stiffened as he opened the pizza box. “I don’t have strange beliefs about money.”
“Oh, but you do.” He gestured toward the security system on the wall, something he had paid for and installed a little over a week ago. “You needed that to stay safe, yet you fought me at every turn.”
“That’s because I didn’t want you spending your money on me.”
“Why?”
“Because ... because ... .” I didn’t have an answer so I grabbed one of the wings from the box he’d propped open and jammed it in my mouth to give myself a few moments to consider my position.
“While you’re debating what inane argument you want to mount about the money, you should know I’m going to melt down if you try to pay for half of this food,” Hunter offered, handing me two napkins from the stack he’d brought. “If I bring you dinner, it’s because I want to bring you dinner.”
I swallowed the chicken and wrinkled my nose. “I know but ... you know I’m broke.” I hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way, but I figured honesty was definitely the best policy given our burgeoning relationship. We were just getting to know one another again after years apart. Hiding things was a surefire way to ensure that any potential we had would crumble before we could build to something spectacular.
“We haven’t gotten into the specifics of your financial situation,” he noted as he grabbed a slice of pizza. “I assumed you were broke when I heard you were coming back to town. There could be no other explanation for your living arrangements.”
I glanced around the apartment, briefly wondering if I should be offended. “I think the apartment is nice.”
“It is nice,” he agreed without hesitation. “When we were kids we used to think this was the best place in the world to live because there was ready access to the soda machine and fresh pie right downstairs. The apartment comes with some trade-offs, though, including your family constantly dropping in unannounced.”
He had me there.
“Do you want to talk about your financial situation?” he asked.
Did I? “Probably not,” I replied after a few moments of intense thought. “It will give you indigestion.”
“I have a strong constitution. Are you in debt?”
“Not a lot.”
He arched an eyebrow, causing me to squirm.
“I owe about eight hundred bucks from the move,” I admitted. “It’s on one credit card. I needed to pay to transport my belongings up here.”
“Do you have any other debt?”
His serious tone, which reminded me of my father when he asked me to explain my data bill in high school, rankled. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I don’t have any other debt. I also don’t have any money. It’s all gone. Everything I ever earned. All of it.”
His calm demeanor never wavered. “So we need to come up with a plan for you.”
He didn’t mean for it to come off condescending — I knew that deep down — and yet anger bubbled up all the same. “I can handle my own finances, thank you.”
He held my gaze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s none of my business. I just don’t want to see you suffer ... or eat chicken and stars for dinner.”
“I could’ve gone downstairs to get something,” I reminded him. “I was just feeling lazy.”
“Okay.”
“I really do like chicken and stars.”
He cracked a smile. “I reserve the right to talk about your finances at another time. It is way too early for that now. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”