Handle With Care (Shacking Up 5)

I grin at her lack of request and kick off the sheets so the fabric only covers the space below my navel to just below where my balls would hang out. I’ve taken to sleeping naked now that the sheets don’t feel like sandpaper and there’s no risk of ending up with bug bites on my junk. As much as I dislike New York, it’s nice to sleep in a real bed for a while.

Wren shoulders the door open. She’s carrying a stack of clothes so high, she can barely see over it, and I can barely see her.

She crosses the room and dumps the pile on the edge of the bed. Her dress is navy and fitted, showing off her curves, despite the high neckline and the hem that falls below her knees. It’s classy, yet sexy without being provocative. Or maybe it’s provocative without being classless. I don’t know. Either way, both my eyes and all the important parts below my waist appreciate the dress. Which is unexpected since generally we’re annoyed with Wren. This new development is inconvenient.

She opens her mouth to speak, but it clamps shut as her eyes lift and flare. She blinks a couple of times, and her tongue drags across her too-red bottom lip. I don’t know what the deal is with the red lipstick, but I wish she’d go with gloss or something. Too bad I can’t tell her what to do like she does with me.

Her gaze moves over me in a slow sweep, catching on the strategically placed sheet before moving over my chest, all the way to my face. Her brows pull down and her eyes narrow. “You need to shave unless you want me to call my laser girl.”

“Good morning to you too. Is this going to become a regular thing? You busting in my bedroom unannounced all the time?” I tuck my hand behind my head, causing the sheet to shift lower.

She turns her attention to the pile of clothes on the bed. “I tried to call. Three times. You didn’t answer.”

“Maybe I was busy.”

Wren snorts. “Busy worshiping your abs. I brought you some new clothes. It’s not quite office attire, but it’ll get us through until the rest of your suits are ready for pick up, which should be in a few days.”

“When did you have time to go shopping for this stuff?” I motion to the pile of boring tan and white with some striped crap thrown in.

“Over the weekend.”

I’m displeased that she’s working outside office hours for some stupid reason. “I can buy my own clothes.”

“I’m sure you can. However, in the interest of presenting a positive image to the public, it’s part of my job to make sure you’re dressed the part. The quirky shirts need to stay in your weekend wardrobe. Actually, I highly recommend you wear them outside of office hours because some of them are quite witty and they show a fun side to your personality, but you cannot wear them to the office anymore. Or the ripped jeans.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” I salute her.

She purses her lips, far from amused, which entertains me. “I’ll need you to try everything on to see if it fits.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now. We have a meeting this morning at nine thirty.”

I sit up, throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, giving her a view of my bare ass.

“Oh my God. You’re naked!” Wren covers her eyes with her hands. Except her fingers are parted, which means she’s checking me out.

I cover my junk with my hand—what I can mask anyway—and turn to face her. “I sleep naked.”

“I’ll just step outside. And wait.” She stumbles back a step. “For you to contain your business.”

“Probably a good idea. I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but seeing as you let yourself in, that’s a given.”

Her cheeks flush, and she rushes for the door, pulling it closed with a slam. Just to aggravate her, I make her wait several minutes before I come out of the bedroom wearing a pair of khaki pants and a black golf shirt. Talk about boring. I feel like I’m becoming a drone, and I’ve barely been here a week.

I find Wren in the kitchen, trying to figure out the coffee press. Griffin has some high-tech coffee machine, but I discovered the single-cup press years ago, and it comes with me everywhere. I lean against the counter and watch while she struggles to assemble the parts. It’s not complicated, which is probably part of the issue. It looks like it should be more difficult than it is.

“Need some help?”

“Oh!” Wren fumbles the pieces, and they bounce across the counter and fall to the floor. “You surprised me!”

“We’re almost even, then. You’ve showed up here unannounced twice, now.”

“I tried to call. Both times. And the suit fitting was scheduled, if you’d bother to check your calendar every once in a while. How does this thing even work?” She turns to face me. “Hmm.” She taps her red lips with a fingertip.