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“That feels more legal than burning pallets. Hence, I’m less of a fan.”
“How big do you want this fire to be?”
“How tall are you?”
“Six-four.”
My brows rise. Okay. Dang. “Yes.”
A tender smile flirts with his lips. “Are you thinking about pushing me into the flames?”
“No, I’m thinking about having a smaller fire so I won’t be scared to get close while roasting marshmallows.” I pick my tablet up again. “Can I access your list from here?”
He unbuckles his seat belt, crosses the cab and slips into the spot beside me before directing me to the correct location on my tablet. He’s thought of everything. Drinks, snacks, seven types of marshmallows. The chocolate fountain is almost as excessive as the presence of fairy lights in the cart, but the picture every item on the list pulls together is perfect.
We can set up between the pool and the butterfly garden. Run extension cords out there. Hook my music up to surround-sound speakers.
It’s much too extravagant for the few guests I was thinking of.
“Finn.”
“Hm?” His murmur hums near my ear, and I realize he’s close. Very close. But he’s not touching me.
And I don’t know if I’ve appreciated anything more.
Looking at him, I say, “Not to be mean, but do you have any actual friends?”
He doesn’t flinch. “No.”
Yikes. Poor boy.
I say, “My guest list is really short. This seems like a lot of effort for less than ten people.”
“I prefer your friends to anyone I could invite.”
“Right…but still.” It’s not a bonfire unless you have at least a couple people you can sacrifice, and I’d be reluctant to lose anyone on my current list.
Finn rests his head back against the seat. “If you’d like, you can open it to friends of friends. Let Penny and Brigid invite some people they know, too. And you grew up here, didn’t you?”
“Yeah?”
“Invite your parents.”
I bristle. “My parents? I haven’t even told my parents I’ve moved into a mansion. I do not want to put you in the same room with them.”
His gaze cuts to me, amused. “I must put my foot down on the bonfire being outside, pumpkin. No rooms included in the event.”
I scoff. “I meant the same vicinity. And you know it. I was distracted by the stupidity of your idea and resorted to the cliché. What, are you also planning to invite your mom or something?”
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth and looks elsewhere. “No. It’s not exactly her thing.”
“So who would my parents talk to?”
“The friends they invite?”
Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.
It would be an awful lot of explaining to do.
