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Shit.
His smile was smug, so I knew my facial expression gave me away.
“One little look,” I told him. “Plus, if thereissomething good in there, won’t you be glad we will have saved all that money?”
The smug smile dropped.
Ha.
“What if I fall in because I have no one back there to help me?”
“I don’t know if I’d get that lucky.”
I shouldn’t have, but I laughed. “If I thought you meant that, I might be offended.”
Burke’s chest expanded slowly. “Fine,” he said, his voice growly and gruff and annoyed.
There was a spring in my step as we walked in between the storefronts.
“What was here?” he asked.
I glanced down the street, but no one was paying attention to us. “A women’s boutique. Catered to a little bit older crowd. Daphne used to shop here a lot.”
“I do not want to know what she bought.”
“It wasn’t a sex shop, Burke,” I teased.
His features turned grim. “If it was, you better warn me, because I’ll toss your ass in that dumpster and walk away.”
“I have the car keys.” I patted his shoulder. “And though your knee is getting better, I know you overdid it on your jog yesterday, so I don’t think you’d welcome the walk back on foot.”
He’d been limping slightly when he came back to the carriage house, damp with sweat and man pheromones that I’d done a very good job of ignoring while I worked on a virtual project at the dining-room table.
My comment made him grumble something under his breath, but this time I hid my smile. Part of Burke’s impressive armor was that he never, ever complained about his knee, instead doing as much as humanly possible to prove he was just fine.
The fact that I’d noticed had probably poked a bruise he wanted to keep untouched, so I decided to drop it.
The back of the shop was hidden from the road, in shadows because of the buildings around it. Not that downtown Traverse was a hotbed of traffic this time of year, but the sounds of the cars were muted too. The giant green dumpster sat directly behind the back entrance to the shop, and if I went up on tiptoe, I could just barely see over the edge. But I sucked in an excited breath when I caught a glimpse of amber-colored glass that looked suspiciously like a light cover.
“Here, hold up the lid.”
“Terrible fucking idea,” he muttered.
I rolled my eyes. “It won’t take long.”
“Why do I feel less likely to trust the woman who’s about to make me carry actual garbage back to the car?” But he pulled the lid back and settled it against the brick wall behind the dumpster. He pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and peered into the receptacle. “This is going to take forever, isn’t it? It looks like an antique shop threw up in here.”
“Does it?” I gasped. “Here, give me a boost up.”
“Nope.”
I sighed, gripping the edge of the dumpster and then wedging my foot along a support bar on the outside. I pulled my body weight up but couldn’t quite swing my leg up and over. As I lay awkwardly on top of the dumpster, I risked a glance. He had his arms crossed over his impressive chest, watching with undisguised glee.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“This will go faster if you help me.”
He pointed a finger in my direction. “That’s the only reason I’ll help.”
