Page 31 of The Lipstick Flip

“What guys, Noah?”

“Cord and Haynes?”

“Cord and Haynes? They sound like douches.”

“Howie!”

I narrowed my eyes. Some of that had to do with the sun still coming up. Some of it had to do with the fact that I still hadn’t had enough unicorn latte. And some of it had to do with the vision I had of these guys. Meatheads. Gym bros. Probably twenty years old with zero body fat.

“Oh stop,” Noah said. “They’re like my little brothers. They like helping me. Cord always helps me bring in my groceries.”

“Great. They can bring the tree inside.”

Noah’s look was somewhere between amusement and—well, I wasn’t sure what. But it came a little too close to knowing, like maybe he already had an idea what I was thinking. “They’re busy. And you’re here. And you’re probably almost as strong as Haynes.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me if you think that’s going to work,” I said, but I put down my latte and went to start unloading the tree.

Noah watched me struggle to get the tree off the Mini Cooper. Once the tree was finally on the ground, he decided to help me carry it as far as the porch.

“What are we going to do with a fucking Christmas tree?” I said.

Noah just gave me a disparaging glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know if it’s going to fit.”

“I don’t have time for a Christmas tree. I’ve got shit to do today.”

“We’re literally almost done.”

“We’re putting in the cabinets today.”

“Joe is putting the cabinets in today.”

I couldn’t help the outrage rise in my voice. “Well, it’s not like I’m sitting around on my fucking thumb.”

I swear to God: Noah’s smirk was filthy.

“Pick up the fucking tree,” I said.

Big surprise: it didn’t fit.

“Why’d you cut off the net?” I said.

“Cord said we should.”

“Cord is a fucking moron.”

“Let’s try the back door,” Noah said. “It’ll fit. I know it’ll fit.”

“That’s your fucking answer for everything,” I said. “Jam it in the back door.”

The shock on Noah’s face almost made it all worth it.

Plus the fact that Joe was dying of laughter inside.

“We just have to tilt it,” I said. “Get the right angle. We’ll go in sideways.”

Noah looked like he was trying to come up with a good way to make that a dirty joke, but finally he gave up.

Tilting the tree didn’t help. Angling the tree didn’t work. Joe standing inside and pulling while Noah and I pushed only got us a lot of needles all over the doorstep.