“I don’t mind helping,” he says.
I shake my head. “Don’t you have renovations to do?”
He holds up his hands in surrender, and I feel a little bad. I have to remind myself just because the last man in my life was a complete lying backstabbing jerk, doesn’t mean they all are. But I still don’t have to be nice to this guy. His mere presence is ruining my new life adventure. I wanted to do this alone. I was supposed to do this alone. He just needs to go away so I can stand in the driveway and pout a bit.
I watch him head back into the house. Once the sound of his power tool cranks back on, I lug the mattress box up to the front porch and then drag it inside, sliding it all the way down the short hallway and into my bedroom. This small cottage has my room on one end, with the bathroom next door, then a hallway to the living room/kitchen open space, and then the small studio space and laundry room on the other side of the house. That’s one bit of good news—Max will be sleeping as far away from me as you can get. Good.
I break a sweat carrying in all my boxes and bags of clothes, but I managed to load them up all by myself and I manage to bring them into the house all by myself.Girl power, I think as I wipe sweat from my brow. All I have to do is pretend that Max is a piece of furniture that will be leaving shortly. No big deal. This can still be my dream house and my big new start.
In my bedroom, I look around at Max’s completed handiwork. The walls are a beautiful denim blue with crisp white trim around the windows and flooring. The original listing online featured boring white paint throughout the house, so this is definitely an improvement, but would have been even better if my landlady had told me about it.
The wooden floors are shiny and clean. I picture rolling out a plush rug under my bed frame to keep the chill off my toes on winter mornings. Of course, I’ll need a rug, and a bed frame. For now, it’s just a mattress on the floor until I find a bed to buy and have delivered locally.
I open the box, roll out my mattress, and watch in awe as the foam fluffs up to its full size. I unpack the rest of my stuff. I have a couple boxes of home décor items, which I keep in the hallway, but everything else is for my bedroom and office. Since my office will be delayed until Max moves out, I leave those boxes in the hallway too. For now, all I need to write my books is my laptop, day planner, and the gorgeous view outside.
With my clothes hung up in the closet, and my IKEA dresser and nightstand put back together, I make quick work of unpacking everything. My bed is made even if it is just a mattress on the floor right now. The TV is meant for the living room but since that place is a construction zone nightmare, I’ll just set it up in my room for now.
“Knock knock,” Max says from the hallway.
“Come in.”He’s a piece of furniture, I tell myself.Don’t let his crazy good looks get you all flustered.
“I … can’t.”
I glance up from behind my dresser where I’ve just plugged in my television. The hallway is filled with boxes and garbage bags full of clothes, stacked so high Max can’t get around them.
“Just kick that black bag out of the way,” I tell him.
He nudges it with his foot. The tall contractor-sized trash bag falls forward. The hair tie I’d hastily used to close it up slips off. The next few seconds pass in slow motion as I watch all of my underwear and bras—both the cute ones and ratty old ones that should have been thrown out years ago—tumble out of the bag and slide across the shiny, varnished floor.
“Crap, I’m sorry,” he says, bending to start picking things up.
“No!” I say, standing up so fast I get dizzy. I scramble across the floor, arms splayed out as if my bony fingers can somehow cover up this big, huge mess from his field of vision.
“I’ll get it.”
“I knocked it over, so I’ll help clean it up,” he says.
“No!” I grab his forearms, pressing him backward into the door frame. His skin is warm, his muscles taut under my grip. I stare at his chest to avoid his eyes. “That’s a bag of my… under clothings…” I say, suddenly finding myself unable to say the wordsbraorpanties. “You do not need to be anywhere near them.”
He chuckles, then takes a step back. “Got it. And sorry for the mess.”
I stand up straight, a futile attempt to hide the mess behind me because Max is so much taller than I am. Still, I have to try something. Those are myunmentionablesall over the floor. And like ninety percent of them aren’t very cute. I dress for comfort, not style.
“Do you need something?”
He’s a piece of furniture, I repeat in my head. A talking, walking, super attractive piece of furniture.
He scratches the back of his neck, which ruffles his slightly-too long wavy blond hair. It’s a good look on him.
“I’ve been debating how to tile the backsplash in the kitchen,” he says. “I have a few color choices and Kelly doesn’t care how it’s done. You want to pick which one you like the best?”
Oh, right. Renovation stuff. I wish I could reach into my own brain and slap it for being so ridiculously dumb. I am literally anti-romance now. I can’t let one guy turn my thoughts to mush. He’ll be out of here soon, and I’ll forget all about him.
“Sure,” I say, happy to get out of this room and this hallway and far, far away from the mess on the floor.
I’m more of a big picture kind of woman. If my house is clean and smells nice and has everything I need, I don’t really care about the details. Max rips open two boxes of tiles and holds up a sheet of each one to the kitchen backsplash, then turns to me.
“What do you think?”
