Lori shoved open a door to an airy room with ten-foot ceilings. "This will be hers. You can set the box in that corner."
She leaned back, gripping the doorknob. Their eyes collided as Gray slid past. He propped the box against a wall beside French doors opening to a balcony. Already he could imagine Magda soaking up all that light. "Is here okay?"
"Perfect. Thanks." Her brows pulled together as she studied the glassed doors. "Oh, I'll need to buy safety latches for those."
More shopping. Gray rubbed a thumb over his throbbing temple and tried to ignore the sleigh bed between Lori and him. She inched inside. The door creaked, moved, swung slowly closed. The small click echoed like a hatch slamming shut.
Lori flinched. "Old houses lean."
"Uh-huh." More likely the house was in league with Bronco to lock him up with Lori.
"Thanks for coming along." She swung two bags of clothes onto the bed.
"No problem."
"You were a great help." Hands moving in nervous activity, she folded the clothes into a little pile on the white lace spread.
"I can haul packages with the best of them." He couldn't drag his eyes from her as she performed the simple domestic chore. The bed loomed between them, threatening his control and his peace of mind, but Gray couldn't seem to shove one foot in front of the other while Lori smoothed a wrinkle from a tiny T-shirt.
"No, really." She slid the pink overalls onto a miniature hanger and hung them in an antique wardrobe. "Your advice over the Capri pants was invaluable."
Then why hadn't she taken it? He bit back the urge to argue.
Lori pivoted to face him. The mischievous gleam in her eyes set off klaxon warnings in his throbbing brain. Come to think of it, that same glimmer reminded him of when she'd asked him whether Magda would prefer sandals or clogs. Like he knew the difference.
Realization kicked him like the sucker he'd been all evening. She'd played him. "So were you testing me or trying to run me off?"
Lori's grin turned downright wicked. "What do you mean?"
"Clogs and Capri pants."
"Took you long enough to catch on."
"That's what I get for trying to be patient."
Her smile softened to something bittersweet. "I just don't understand what you're doing here, Gray. What do you hope to accomplish with this attentive boyfriend act?"
Most of the time he appreciated Lori's straightforward honesty. Today he suspected she might well have him pinned to the wall, and not in any way he would enjoy. He dodged the question as much as he could, unwilling to fess up to his motives. What would she say if she knew he was plotting to give her the family he hadn't been able to? "We may not be a couple, but we can be friends."
"I'm not so sure."
Disappointment dogged Gray with a force that surprised him. He shouldn't care this much, and that left his feet itching to run. "Why not?"
Her eyes widened incredulously. "Because … because … because of…" Her hands flailed the air as if she might find the words there. Finally she made a sweeping gesture across the bed. "Because of that."
The mattress seemed to double in size, large and inviting. But they stood on opposite sides—of the bed and so much more.
"Lori, let me share something I've discovered this past year. That," he said, jabbing a finger toward the bed, "is going to be there whether we're in the same room with it or not. That is going to be there even if you and I aren't in the same room. That is just something we're going to have to live with." He pulled a tight grin. "Or rather, live without."
She twirled a lock of hair. The regret in her eyes tempted him, echoing a regret within him he understood too well. "Meanwhile, we're old friends. You need help. I want to give it. Now let's put together Barbie's dream house."
"God, you're stubborn." Lori twisted the lock of hair faster, before flicking it aside. "But you're also right."
About being friends or wanting each other regardless of time and miles? Of course, in two weeks there would be three thousand miles between them when he transferred cross country to McChord AFB in Washington. He didn't plan to go through a repeat of the past year dodging memories of Lori. The only way he could see to avoid it was to ignore how damn much he wanted her.
Gray tapped the dollhouse box with his boot. "What'll it be? Do you want help with the seven thousand pieces rattling around in this box or not?"
Hands clenched by his sides, he waited for her answer, watched that answer shift back and forth in her eyes—for him, against, and back again. His fingers unfurled.