When I do, it’s terrifying. I’d expected him to at best look embarrassed—not as embarrassed as I am—and at worst to be leering, giving me a wolfish grin.
But he’s scowling. His frown is downright menacing with that scar notching through his left brow. Why the hell does he look so grumpy?
He shakes his head, and his expression eases. Just a little. He’s still frowning. “You’re finished with the kitchen already?”
“I…” I glance down at the boxes in his arms. Is that why he’s pissed? Because he brought me boxes and he thinks I don’t need them? If so, that’s messed up, and he’d be wrong anyway. I don’t have enough. “I’m not,” I say, swallowing as I recount the barest of scratches that I have put into that monster of a job. Who knew Mom had so many dishes? And crystal? And appliances? “Not even close.”
My tone sounds suspiciously like despair, so I clear my throat. “That’s why I had to take a break,” I blather on, shrugging a shoulder in the direction of the stairs. “A cold shower wakes me up better than anything else. I’m about to dive back in.”
He’s still frowning, but he looks more confused now than annoyed. “But you’re in pajamas,” he says, almost absently.
Now it’s my turn to frown. Like it’s any of his damn business. What’s he doing here anyway? If I hadn’t already crossed my arms over my chest, I’d do it now with a flounce. “Yeah, so after I work until I collapse, it’ll be one less thing I have to do before I face-plant on my bed.”
He blinks, drawing back a little, and I think maybe my words came out a bit too snippy. We stare at each other, and I’m pretty sure I’m giving him the same uncertain look he’s giving me. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to say to him now, but I’m not about to be the first to look away. That’s for chickens, and I won’t spend the next three to six months letting this guy think I’m a chicken.
Luc raises his armload of boxes, and I think he’s about to hand them over and get the hell out of Crazy Town, when the hint of a smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “I can help knock that out. I brought boxes.”
“Wh-what?” I stammer. He steps forward, and I can either let him crash into me with his bunch of boxes or I can move aside and allow him in. I move aside. “Wait. You don’t need—”
He walks past me toward the living room. “Yes, I do.”
I follow, my bare feet slapping on the wood floor. “This isn’t your responsibility. I can handle it.” I grab his arm, and we both stop.
Arm? Did I sayarm?His bicep has to be made of cedar.
Luc swings his dark gaze to me, skepticism hard in his eyes. I let go.
“You’re doing this by yourself?” he asks, his eyes snapping to Mattie and Emmett on the living room sectional. Mattie’s surrounded by books and papers. Emmett holds his Nintendo Switch, but they are watching us, silent and wary-eyed.
I scoff. “Yes. I’m the adult.”
Mattie has an AP Bio test tomorrow. Harry is at a friend’s working on a world geography project, and Emmett is only eight. I’m tempted to tell Luc this, but what business is it of his? I don’t owe him an explanation.
His brow quirks as though he’s debating the truth of my last statement. With a subtle tilt of his chin, he indicates my clothes, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, the bastard.
What kind of adult is already in pjs at six-thirty at night?
Luc shakes his head. “This isn’t a one-person job. You need help. I’m already here,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Let’s get to it.”
Thirty minutes ago, I was dead on my feet, but now I feel like I could go thirteen rounds with this guy without taking a break.Ineed help?! How dare he?
“I. Do. Not. Need. Help.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’m not helping you. I’m helping me,” he says with a slight bow of concession. “If the crew and I get here Monday morning, and the kitchen isn’t ready for demo, it’ll cost me money in wages and push us off schedule.”
I scowl. “But itwillbe ready—”
“Have you set up your temporary kitchen yet? Moved your fridge? Your microwave? The table?”
This brings me up short. “N-not yet.”
“Do you have a dolly for moving the fridge?”
I press my lips together. “No.”
“I have one in my truck,” Luc says with a glint in his eye. “Would you like to borrow it?”
I try to picture moving the refrigerator by myself. Could I even manage it without the thing crushing me flat? I honestly hadn’t even thought of moving it. Maybe Harry and I could handle it together, but what if he got hurt?
