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I grab three of the smallest boxes, stacked one on top of the other, like a little package pyramid. I might not be some world class athlete, but I can at least handle hauling boxes up the stairs on my own.
What I don't expect is Reese at the top of the stairs.
He’s got his arms folded on the landing, leaning onto it. We exchange a look as I make my way past. Questions glimmer in his eyes. Whatever they are, I don't get to know because he doesn't say squat to me. Not a peep. He just watches and broods.
It’s like something from a gothic novel. The spooky portrait in the creepy castle where the eyes follow you no matter where you go.
“What?” I finally snap.
Reese's mouth twists, debating a response. "You want help?"
The offer damn near knocks my socks off. The Reese Dalton, self-proclaimed asshole, Mr. Hands-Off-Everything, is offering to help me? I hadn't jotted that one down in my Reese Doing Things bingo card. Pity.
The shock must show on my face, because Reese rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I can be a gentleman, you know."
"Could’ve fooled me, Peeping Tom."
He rolls his eyes. "Is it a yes or no?"
I'm tempted to tell him no, just to be spiteful. But some of those boxes looked pretty big. And the thought of Reese grunting and heaving and doing manly shit with those gray sweatpants molded to his ass…
"Fine. I suppose."
"You'd think I was asking to pull your teeth out," he mutters, jogging down the stairs.
I roll my eyes and continue to Violet’s room. I set my small stack of boxes in a corner. Before I can leave, Reese comes marching through the door, managing to carry two of the largest boxes on his own. He’s not even huffing. Not a broken sweat in sight. His arms flex deliciously.
I regret to inform you that I involuntarily lick my lips at the sight.
He plops them down beside the three I had carried. Before I get caught ogling, I start to head out again. But I don’t get far before he puts his hand on my shoulder and nudges me back.
“Don’t bother. I’ll get the rest.”
“I can carry boxes.”
“I know you can. But what makes more sense: four trips for you, or two for me?”
I hate that he has a point, so I don’t justify his question with a response. He smirks, knowing he’s right. “Exactly. Just stay here.”
He disappears again. I fold my arms over my chest and look to Violet. She’s chewing on a brightly colored teething ring in the shape of a chubby elephant. I can almost see the words on her face.
Don’t let him bully you like that! Muscles aren’t worth it!
“I know,” I mumble at her. “But I’m just letting him think that he’s all high and mighty and smart. Men love that stuff.”
She burps up a bubble of spit. She’s calling me on my shit and we both know it.
I don’t have to get my B.S. remarked on by an infant for much longer, though. I hear Reese’s footsteps, and then he’s trekking into the nursery like a strongman all over again. This time, I keep my tongue in my mouth. I am truly a model of self-restraint.
He drops the boxes next to the first load, brushes his hands off, and surveys the damage.
“So… this was your idea? Getting stuff for Violet?” His question is stiff and he doesn’t look at me when he asks it.
I fold my arms tighter over my chest, like I’m preemptively putting on armor. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Did I say it was a problem?”
He looks to me, his head tilted. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was a bit of interest in his eyes. I think back to what Quinn said about how maybe Reese is one of those guys that likes a little bite in his women.
