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I sadly agreed with him.
“Okay,” I sighed. “But what about this summer? I was planning on fixing my house up. If I can’t stay there…”
His eyebrows rose. “You were planning on doing what?”
I grimaced. “Scraping paint off the inside walls. Repainting. Stuff like that.”
He pulled me until I was pressing against him.
“You probably should have the entire place checked over for black mold, dry rot, and things like that,” he said. “The roof, I noticed, is leaking in a few places. Roof leaks can cause problems in other areas.”
“It doesn’t leak inside though,” I said.
“No,” he agreed. “But just because it doesn’t leak through your ceiling doesn’t mean that it’s not still doing damage.”
He had a point… but still.
I’d never noticed it leaking—through the ceiling or otherwise.
But I did know that the house had quite a few problems, and they needed to be checked out.
So yeah, he might have a point.
He grinned at me unrepentantly, then started the process of cleaning up after me.
“I don’t own my place,” he said as he started to pour the bacon grease into the little ceramic dish with all his leftover bacon grease. “I can move.”
My brows lifted.
“I want to move in with you,” he told me bluntly, moving his eyes from where he was pouring the bacon grease—using one hand might I add. Hell, I couldn’t even hold the pot’s lid up with one hand, let alone with a pot full of bacon grease.
He had one of those cast iron skillets—literally his only skillet in the entire kitchen—that he’d gotten from his mom.
I’d been envious of it since I’d started cooking breakfast this morning.
But damn, was it big.
And there he was, lifting it up, not straining in the least.
The arms of his shoulders and biceps bulged, but that was the only sign of him exerting himself.
“Are you even listening to me?” he teased.
I blinked, pulling my gaze away from his bulging biceps to come to rest on his face.
“Umm, a bit,” I lied.
He grinned wickedly at me.
“I was saying that I want to move in with you,” he said. “And I don’t mind helping you with repairs on your house, but we need to do it before we actually move in. It’d be a hell of a lot easier if we weren’t actually living there.”
Butterflies started to swarm in my belly.
“I’d like that,” I said softly. “A lot.”
He winked before moving the skillet he was holding to the sink. But he didn’t wash it. Nope, he literally only wiped it out with paper towels, then hung it right back on the wall where I’d gotten it from this morning.
“We need to talk about a few other things, too,” he said as he started to clean up the egg mess.
I licked my lips, watching as his hands and arm muscles bunched and lengthened as he washed the four small bowls I’d been using to crack the eggs into.
“What else?” I asked curiously, eyes once again captivated.
It was his chuckling that had me once again meeting his gaze.
“What?” I asked.
“Are you going to get your head out of the clouds and listen to me today? Or should we go take care of you first, then have this discussion?” he wondered.
I licked my lips, seriously contemplating what he’d said.
I did feel a little needy…
He saw the look in my eyes, grinned wickedly, and abandoned the mess we’d left.
Seconds later, I was in his arms, his mouth was on mine, and we were doing it in the kitchen.
***
I dried my hair using Ashe’s hair dryer.
I’d texted her to see if I could use it and had Louis run over there while I was in the shower to go get it.
I oohed and ahhed over the Dyson dryer that seemed to work ten times better than my normal dryer, marveling at how straight my hair was after using it.
I wouldn’t even need to use the straightener that I’d borrowed.
I wasn’t saying that my hair was really in need of a straightener—mostly it was wavy/straight enough for me to deal with it—but tonight was a big deal. And I wanted it to look sleek and beautiful.
I also wanted people to see me on Louis’ arm and think that we fit.
I didn’t want to be that half-assed slouch that I usually was when it came to dressing up.
Because damn, could Louis clean up well.
He was currently leaning over the bathroom sink brushing his teeth. He was wearing a nice pair of dark-washed jeans, black work boots, and a white-collared shirt.
He had the long sleeves rolled up to right under his elbow, and the same damn belt buckle I’d gotten him in high school for our first Christmas together.
I hadn’t seen it in forever, and the fact that he was wearing it right then made my heart melt a little bit.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked curiously.
