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Lexie
“Did you miss a delivery today?”
I cringed at the sight of the remainder of Garrison’s order. “I meant to leave that at Grey Paws.”
I hefted a box of Muffy’s things onto the cart Lincoln had retrieved from someplace unknown. We were back in the parking garage of Mrs. Johnson’s building, which if I’d been using my head before, I would’ve realized was Lincoln’s building too. He was just too familiar.
“Do we need to go back?” He paused mid-pickup of a couple blankets.
“No. Take some of it for Muffy.”
He perked up at the mention of his name but didn’t pull as if he were sensitive to Eric holding him.
“I think Pepper and Miss Adeline loaded us with plenty.”
“It’ll last a few days.” I added one of the boxes on top of the pile. “This looks like it.” I hefted the sliding door closed. “Thanks for the help in the kitchen.”
Lincoln had borrowed a crate from Pepper, and Muffy had been patient while we whipped up the batch of food for tomorrow.
“I increased my peeling time by three minutes,” Lincoln said matter-of-factly.
“There were less carrots.”
He scowled, and I smiled.
“I’ll walk Muffy to your apartment,” Eric said.
Lincoln stuffed his hands in his pockets. His stance was casual, though I felt his discomfort. If it were anyone else, I’d have let him off the hook.
“You push, I’ll pull.” I grabbed one of the rails of the bellman’s cart.
Why doesn’t he have the doorman help him?
He seemed the type that tasks of this kind weren’t worthy of his time. Except he’d never behaved that way around us. I’d never seen him demand that anyone do something he wouldn’t do himself.
He pressed his thumb on the keypad by the elevator. Muffy trotted in first with Eric in tow.
“Has he been here before?” I asked.
“No.” He pushed the cart in behind me.
“I thought he’d be more hesitant in an unfamiliar place.”
Lincoln looked at the dog, who seemed right at home.
“He knows he’s safe with us,” Eric said.
My heart melted at more of Eric’s sound logic.
The elevator zoomed up without stopping. I glanced around, noticing the difference between this one and the other that we usually took to Mrs. Johnson’s apartment. That one was nice, but this one was opulent. Mirrored walls, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, polished gold doors.
When they opened, I couldn’t see around the loaded cart. Muffy shot around it, pulling Eric with him.
Lincoln’s snap echoed in the space.
When the foyer came into view, Eric’s eyes were wide, but the dog sat obediently at his side. The area was larger than our apartment. Dark paneled walls, some sort of exotic stoned floor, an arrangement of fresh flowers.
Expensive.
