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FIVE
I was sweatingballs by the time I finally got all of my shit up to the room that was going to be mine, and was wheezing like I was dying, too. The last thing I wanted to do was walk back down the stairs to grab Rocco’s clothes, so I took a break by hanging my shirts up in the closet. There were already about two hundred hangers packed into that thing, and while I only had enough tops to fit ten percent of those hangers, I did appreciate the thoughtfulness human-Rocco seemed to have put into preparing the space for me.
While I hung shit, my mind went back to the tampons and floral shampoo.
Were those for me too?
When I asked wolf-Rocco, he confirmed my suspicion. And honestly, I was kind of touched.
Human-Rocco might have been grumpy at the party, and he might have had less than zero interest in looking at me or sharing a bed with me, but he had still gotten his house ready for me. He’d made sure I wouldn’t run out of toilet paper, or tampons, or shampoo, or hangers. He’d even gotten me a damned bed.
I was actually starting to think that the whole house-sharing thing could work out nicely for us.
When I finished hanging up clothes, I was still sticky and smelly, but I was no longer actively sweating, so I grudgingly headed back down the stairs.
Carrying Rocco’s clothes up only took three trips. Like me, he didn’t have a whole ton of clothing. I noticed that his closet was equally split between button-down shirts and old t-shirts as I hung things up for him, and realized he probably had to get a bit dressy for his job. Considering I had always been on the messy side of casual, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Then again, we were just going to be friend-mates instead of spouse-mates. So it really didn’t matter.
There wasn’t a dresser to tuck his other clothes into, so I left the folded piles of jeans and joggers on the floor of his closet. He didn’t own any slacks, and as I headed back down the stairs, I couldn’t help but picture the freakin’ gorgeous blond guy in jeans and a button down.
Hot friggin’ damn… maybe I didn’t mind the dressy shirts he had after all.
When I headed back down the stairs, my gaze landed on the boxes of not-built-yet furniture.
And I grimaced, hard-core.
That shit was going to suck to drag up the stairs.
I headed for the toilet paper, and spent the next twenty minutes dragging that crap up instead. Most of it went on the storage shelves in Rocco’s closet, since the bathroom was packed too full.
When that was done, I grudgingly walked over to the pile of furniture. I’d never built a piece of furniture before… which really freakin’ sucked for me.
“It’s better than living in my car,” I muttered to myself, as I leaned over the pile and wrapped my arms around a massive box.
Wolf-Rocco licked my thigh. Whether it was a “condolences” lick or a “I’m glad you’re here” lick, I didn’t know.
I heaved the box up—and let out a screech as I wobbled. That thing was even heavier than it freakin’ looked.
And I dropped it right back down onto the stack.
Swearing under my breath, I leaned over and tried one more time.
Somehow, it was even heavier the second time.
I panted, sagging against the couch.
This sucked.
Not the whole situation—just the damned heavy furniture.
“I’m going to have to go ask one of your buddies for help,” I grumbled to the wolf.
He nodded his head, and something in his gaze told me the bastard had always known I was going to have to do that. I scowled at him, and he whined in apology before licking my leg.
I pushed him away with a grunt, standing up and heading toward the door. The wolf growled, and lunged between me and my way out.
I blinked at him.
