I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(69)

He drops the second bucket in the cart. “Cheaper but not the same quality. I’d need to use twice as much of the less expensive brand to cover the same square footage, so it would end up costing more in the long run.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that.” Now I feel like a jerk for thinking he was wasteful. At least I didn’t say it aloud.

He points to another brand, even more expensive than the one he’s chosen. The kind my father likely would’ve chosen based on cost alone. “This stuff isn’t worth the price tag. Not when this”—he taps the buckets in the cart—“does just as good a job.”

“Good to know.” I check average square footage of coverage on the paint bucket, then mentally do the math for one of the bedrooms in our beach house, all four walls and the ceiling, and break it down by cost per square foot. “So this is about ten cents a square foot, but that would cost more like twenty?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes. “Did you do that math in your head?”

“Yes.”

He crowds me. “You need to stop that.”

I have to tip my head up so I can meet his serious gaze. “I need to stop doing mental math?”

“In public places, yes.”

I bite my cheek to keep my smile in check. “Do I want to ask why?”

“Because I find it sexy, and it makes me want to do inappropriate things to you in this aisle. The kind of things that would get me arrested.”

I grin. “You probably shouldn’t have told me that. I’m definitely going to use that against you in the future.”

He returns the smile, except his is dark. “I fully anticipate that you will, and that I’ll probably enjoy it.” He steps back, slips his hand in his pocket, and makes a covert adjustment. We continue down the aisle, where Pierce grabs paint rollers and a few brushes, cleaner, and cloths. I ask questions about best brands and most economical purchases.

“You know, if you want or need any help with your flip, all you have to do is ask. You can borrow whatever you need from me instead of buying new stuff, and I have trade guys I can call.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you to offer. But don’t you need your trade guys, and won’t that piss off your brother?”

“I don’t know why you’re so worried about pissing off my brother. I’m not. And I don’t need them all the time, so I’m happy to share contacts with you.”

One thing I know about this business is that sharing contacts doesn’t happen often. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

We spend the next two hours shopping—well, Pierce is done picking up what he needs in less than twenty minutes. We spend the rest of the time discussing finishes and pricing out everything from kitchen cabinets to bathroom hardware.

It’s fun. And normal. And coupley. It worries me how much I like it, and my guilt over my almost truth eats at me even more.

Afterward we go for lunch at a little bistro. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s dressed for construction among a bunch of suit-wearing business people. Pierce refuses to let me pay my share. I want to be appreciative of the gesture, but it reinforces what I’m struggling to come to terms with—that I’m invested in this man for reasons beyond his stellar bedroom skills.

Getting involved with someone who can afford luxury is scary. It’s too close to what I’ve had before and what I never expect to have again. Until now, it’s been easy. Takeout and sex in half-renovated houses or rentals don’t lean toward any kind of permanence. But this—expensive meals and shopping trips where I watch him drop five grand without batting an eye—is something else entirely.

Beyond the material luxury, getting emotionally involved is downright terrifying. I don’t want to get used to indulgences, even little ones, like this lunch. And I don’t want to get too comfortable with him, too close, because it puts me at risk, and Marley, and everything we’ve worked for. If he digs, he’ll find out who we really are. He’s only a few well-worded searches on the internet from being able to uncover our whole sordid family history, and then what? Maybe he won’t care. But if he told his brother … I don’t know Lawson well enough to say for certain that he wouldn’t use that information against us. If we’re connected to our parents, it could obliterate our career in real estate. We’ve built ourselves up from almost nothing. I don’t want to jeopardize that because I’m hot over some guy who isn’t going to stick around anyway.

Pierce drags his fingertips along the back of my hand. “Everything okay?”

“I could’ve paid for my meal.”

His lips press into a line. “I came over unannounced and coerced to you into shopping for purely selfish reasons, me paying for lunch is not unreasonable.”

“You paid for takeout the other night.” This is a stupid thing to be worked up about, but I’m struggling a little with how much this feels like a relationship. This is usually the point where I walk away, but in this case, I don’t want to since it’s going to be over soon enough anyway.

“And I invited you over then, as well.” He taps the table with long fingers. “What about me paying for lunch bothers you, Rian?”

“I like equality.”

“Oh.” He relaxes back in his seat. “Okay. I suppose I can understand that. Sometimes my sister likes to buy dinner even though I make four times what she does. Although she is marrying a man with more money than God, so I don’t usually feel too bad about it.”